Someday Never Comes
by MzMalfoy
Summary: What would've happened if Sirius had sought help capturing Peter instead of trying to get to him on his own? That sounds like a better idea. An alternative version of PoA onward. Godfather Sirius, no slash.
1. An Epiphany

A/N: Hello! So, I wondered what would've happened if he'd gone to Dumbledore and professed his innocence and told them about Peter instead of going all crazy stalker when he broke out of Azkaban. Here's what my day dreams have come up with. Day dreaming about Sirius is not a hardship, by the way.  
For the record: Gary Oldman, as awesome as he is, is FAR too old to play Sirius Black. I'm not sure who the dude is in the photo I used for the fic (nor do I own the pic) but that's the closest I've been able to get as how I see Sirius in my head. Very nice.

Hope you enjoy!

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First thing I remember was askin' Papa, "Why?"  
For there were many things I didn't know  
And Daddy always smiled, took me by the hand  
Sayin', "Someday you'll understand"

Well, I'm here to tell you now each and every mother's son  
You better learn it fast, you better learn it young  
'Cause 'Someday' never comes

Well, time and tears went by and I collected dust  
For there were many things I didn't know  
When Daddy went away, he said,  
"Try to be a man And someday you'll understand"

Well, I'm here to tell you now each and every mother's son  
You better learn it fast, you better learn it  
young 'Cause 'Someday' never comes.

Sirius Black sat with his back pressed into the corner of his cell, not feeling the steady drip of cold slimy water down his back. He was far too used to the horrors of Azkaban to notice something as trivial as the discomfort of cold water. He'd given up thought of comfort ages ago; now it was a daily, hourly, moment by moment struggle to simply maintain his sanity. He'd been in his human form for several hours already and was desperate to shift back to Padfoot, but he'd heard a rumor that there was some sort of inspection going on today. If he fell asleep as Padfoot and someone happened to walk past his cell and see a great black dog where a prisoner should be… the only defense he had against the dementors would be taken from him. He'd just grit his teeth and fight against the images and screams trying to force their way to the forefront of his mind. If he let himself, he could easily see James' and Lily's house, blown to bits. He could easily see James' glassy eyes staring up at him through broken glasses. It took no trouble to remember hearing Harry's cries from the ruined nursery and rushing upstairs to his godson… to recall stepping over Lily's body and scooping up the screaming toddler. Before he realized it, his throat was aching at the memory of being forced to hand the baby over to Hagrid on Dumbledore's command. Merlin, all he could hear was Harry screaming; he could even feel his tiny fingers clutching at him.

He shook his head and pulled brutally his hair to force his mind back to the present. "Fucking dementors." He muttered under his breath, not for the first time. He stood and forced himself to walk around his miniscule cell, stretching legs that protested the damp cold and being curled up in the corner for so long. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been truly warm.

On his second turn around the tiny space the moans and cries down the cellblock changed their tone and seemed… relieved? What the hell was going on? He'd grown so used to hearing the ghastly noises of his fellow inmates that he hardly noticed the sounds of madness anymore. These sounds were still mad; they just lacked the anguished tone they usually held. He stepped to the front of the cell and leaned against the bars, his forearms resting against the horizontal bar as he pressed his cheek to the cold metal trying to see down the hallway. Then he felt it: a Patronus. He took the deepest breath of his life as he felt the despair lift; he felt like he stood three full inches taller… the feeling was indescribable. "Sweet Mary and Joseph," he breathed quietly, relishing in the first pleasant sensation he'd felt in a decade. He cocked a hip and rested his forehead against the bars, nearly weak with relief and quietly breathing in, quickly searching his mind for happy memories… he knew he'd only have a few moments before the Patronus had moved on; then the happy ones would be out of reach. Since Harry had already been in his mind, he thought of him and pulled all but forgotten memories of Harry's birth, his first Christmas, his bright eyes and lively laugh. His face nearly broke into a smile, remembering a day that he, Prongs, and Harry had been left unsupervised when Lily'd spent a day out shopping. They had turned the house into a disaster but they'd had fun. They'd worn that kid out like never before and he'd fallen asleep face-planted in his mashed potatoes that evening. He felt a grin work across his face but stifled it at the sound of approaching footsteps and voices. He quickly adopted the face he'd worn best until he was thrown unceremoniously into prison: arrogant disinterest. He was nearly amazed at how easy the façade was to slip back into. Old habits die hard, even if he'd been in his godforsaken hell hole for a third of his life.

He listened as he heard a man speaking, addressing a companion as 'Minister'. Well, well. It looked like the Minister for Magic was slumming today. The small collection of wizards drew level with his cell and the minister, carrying a ridiculous hat, did a double take at his casual posture.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Minister." He said cheekily, gesturing to the cells with a broad sweep of his arm. Stifling a smirk at the man's astounded expression- bloody fucking hell the Patronus was amazing, he felt high as a kite. Sirius' eyes flicked down to take in the rest of the man's attire. Pinstriped cloak? Really? Then his eyes landed on the paper. "Say, you aren't done with the Prophet are you?" The man, Sirius thought his name was Fudge… he'd heard that name tossed around by wizard guards on their weekly rounds, glanced down at the paper and raised it slowly, looking extremely confused that an inmate was even speaking to him, much less asking for his paper. "Sure do miss those crosswords…" Sirius held out his hand through the bars and the Minister slowly pressed the paper into it. "Appreciate it, Minister."

"Certainly…. Black." The minister stared at him for another few seconds and slowly walked away. Sirius had only another moment before the light, literal and figurative, of the Patronus as it faded around the corner. Feeling the happiness draining rapidly he sighed and lowered himself to his pathetic excuse of a mattress. Perhaps the paper would be interesting enough to distract him for a little while, he hadn't read one since he'd been in here. Perhaps it would be safe to be Padfoot now, which would also make things much easier. Could he turn pages with paws instead of hands? Why the hell not, he hadn't had a challenge in a while. Laying the paper flat he listened closely for a moment and heard nothing but the usual sounds of the prison. When he was satisfied that the 'inspection' party had passed, he focused on his transformation. With the momentary relief that the Patronus provided still slightly lingering, it came more quickly than usual. In a fleeting burst of discomfort and pain he shifted forms and was Padfoot. Instantly the oppressive aura of the dementors lessened and he felt his emotions level out, being a dog was so much easier, warmer too. He probably spent seventy percent of his time as Padfoot. He heaved a doggy sigh and lowered himself to the blankets, folding all four legs underneath him. He focused on the paper, noting the date. Fucking hell… he'd been in here for twelve years. Twelve fucking years. He'd thought it had only been around ten, it was hard to know though, it wasn't like they let him have a girly calendar like he'd like. Before he could contemplate further, his attention was captured by a family of redheads posing in front of the great pyramids. All that red hair must be Weasleys. Sure enough, there stood Arthur Weasley, looking a bit pudgier and with less hair than the last time he'd seen him. Merlin, it looked like he and Molly had an entire Quidditch team's worth of offspring- something else caught his eyes on what looked like the youngest boy's shoulder. In an instant he'd switched back to his human form and held the paper so close that his nose brushed its surface.

No… it couldn't be. He struggled to focus on the paper quivering in his trembling hands. Four toes. The rat had four toes on that front paw. It was him. Had to be. Peter fucking Pettigrew. He was the pet of one of the Weasley kids! He quickly scanned the article and discovered that the boy was the youngest son and was the same age as Harry. If young Ronald followed in his parents footsteps he was surely a Gryffindor… Harry was a Gryffindor; he'd heard that several times over the last couple years. Oh fucking hell, the rat would be sleeping in Harry's dorm. He clenched his jaw to stop the furious scream bursting out of his throat. That fucking traitor was on holiday in Egypt while he was rotting away in prison! He was on holiday and come September, he'd be at Hogwarts with Harry! His fury and fear resolved an idea that had danced around the edges of his consciousness for the last couple of years. He was getting out of here. He'd get out of here or he'd die trying.

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A/N: This is a bit of a short intro... the future chapters will be much longer, I promise. Hope y'all like it. :)

The lyrics above are Credence Clearwater Revival, by the way.


	2. An Escape

A/N: I tried to make myself wait til the weekend to post this so I could keep writing well ahead of where I'm posting... but I got too excited. Your four reviews have fed my addiction and I must have more! Hope y'all like it!

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It took him a week to determine that he only had one option: sneak out as Padfoot. When the dementors brought food, they were not careful opening the door. They were complacent in the fact that people stayed as far away as fucking possible when a dementor was close. Just being housed in the same facility as them was enough to drive a man mad- it did drive them mad, but when they were within arm's reach most people were rendered nearly comatose. Sirius knew full well that if it weren't for Padfoot he'd be a quivering lump of terrified remains just like the rest of them.

So his plan was utterly, foolishly simple. It was either absolutely fucking brilliant or his mind had really, truly broken and he'd never noticed. Either way he was trying it. All systems go.

So it was that a week after his realization that the rat Pettigrew was alive, well, and in close quarters with his godson, Sirius Black did something so simple as to slide through the open door of his cell, narrowly missing trodding on the cloak of the dementor dropping off his dinner rations. He walked silently, as stealthily as possible down the dark corridor. He wanted to run, so badly, but knew he needed stealth much more than speed. He kept his ears cocked back, and once looked over his shoulder to see that dinner service continued as if nothing had happened. Merlin, they hadn't noticed him pass! He'd realized very early on that the dementors couldn't really understand him as Padfoot, but he hadn't realized that it was to the extent that he could brush past them and have them be completely unaware. He threaded his way through the maze of dank corridors, following the barest whiff of fresh salty air. Finally he found the exit, not even guarded, and ducked out into the night. Padfoot huffed out a doggy laugh as Sirius thought about how overly confident the ministry was in the dementors. Not that he was complaining, mind.

He slunk along the base of the wall, inches from the cliff and the sheer drop into the North Sea. He heard the crash of the waves on the rocks below and was not looking forward to plunging into that icy water but knew there was nothing for it but to swim. He'd need to find some food though, it was going to be an extremely long swim to the mainland; he needed the fuel. He walked slowly and cautiously around the side of the prison to the guard shack at the entrance. This was pretty much his only shot… this was the only place with full-time wizards on the island. They were only here because dementors couldn't read paperwork and visitors' passes. If he couldn't raid a lunch tin or something he'd be stuck stalking rats on the rocks. He shuddered. He hated when it came to that. He'd been forced to resort to the rats that scurried through his cell occasionally over the years when there were food shortages or something spoiled. It was not something he enjoyed, but it was better than drowning in the middle of the North Sea because he was weak with hunger.

He found success in not one but two lunch tins in the guard shack. He waited out of sight until they left to take their patrols then darted in and quickly changed back to human… paws couldn't work the latches. He snatched one of two sandwiches from the first lunch and a large hunk of cheese out of the second. He'd love to have everything; it looked delicious, but didn't want to raise an alarm. By taking one item from each he hoped that the guards would brush it off saying '_the wife forgot my second sandwich today!_' or '_I could've sworn I put another snack in here…' _ He quickly shrunk back to Padfoot and grabbed his bounty in his mouth and snuck back outside. He nimbly trotted down some large boulders until he was down closer to the water, closer than any guard would venture and well out of sight. He found a spot where the rock overhung slightly and debated changing back to human… but the food now had dog slobber on it. As much as he'd like to eat the sandwich as a human… the slobber was a little off putting. He ate the sandwich quickly- it was so delicious he had to stop himself making obscene noises- but tucked the cheese into a dryish-looking nook; his stomach had shrunk over the years and he wouldn't be able to eat any more for a few hours. He'd hunker down for the night, try to get some good sleep and hit the water just before sunrise to be out of sight before it was light enough to spy him on the waves. He'd weighed the options over the few days and decided to risk most of the swim during daylight. That water was going to be freezing and even as Padfoot he'd be cold but weak sunlight would be warmer than black night. It'd make him feel better about it anyways.

He'd stay Padfoot for the night, that fur coat would be much warmer than the rag of a prison uniform he had. He could not fucking wait to get to the mainland and find somewhere warm and dry to sleep. And soft. Oh he couldn't wait for a real bed. Would he even be able to sleep on a soft mattress anymore, being so used to his measly blankets on the hard floor? He clamped down on his building euphoria at his success so far by reminding himself that he was far from safe yet. Hunkering down into as small a ball as Padfoot could curl; he closed his eyes and waited for dawn, already looking forward to his block of cheese for breakfast.

He'd woken in the middle of the night and decided it was too risky to stay on the island any longer. He scarfed down his cheese and started swimming. The swim was long. It was long and it was fucking cold. The seas were high and apparently Padfoot got seasick. He didn't know it was possible for dogs to vomit while swimming, but he'd learned that lesson and had unfortunately revisited his cheesy breakfast. He'd wondered if he was going to make it at all a few times. Twice he'd had to switch forms to float on his back and let his muscles rest… Padfoot, he discovered, did not float at all.

When he finally staggered- staggering is even more awkward with four legs- onto the shore he didn't make it far before he collapsed and had to lay there for a half hour or so until he recovered enough to find somewhere better to rest. Luckily, he'd washed up near a park and he was able to raid the trash bin behind a snack stand. With a full stomach and mostly dry fur he wandered through the town, trying to figure out just where the hell he was and what he was going to do. So far his plan was to make his way down to Grimmauld Place and stake it out to see if anyone was using it. He suspected that his own cottage would've been taken back by the ministry so he wasn't even going to waste time going by there. He hoped he could get back into Grimmauld Place… as much as he hated it. He was the last of the Blacks though, and doubted that his parents ever bothered to banish him from the property and so it should be rightfully his. He only hoped no one else had staked a claim or gotten past the wards.

He spent nearly a month making his way south, nicking papers when he came to wizard towns and food anywhere he found it. Every night he stared up at the open sky in wonder. He hadn't been out in the open in so long. The first week or so he barely slept, feeling very exposed and vulnerable. He'd had to find small alleyways to stay in before he was able to sleep through the night. As time went on he became slightly more comfortable with the freedom and open space. His energy levels increased as he was finally getting some physical activity and was able to eat at least one decent meal a day, not to mention his emotional stability now that he was away from the dementors. His fury at Peter was never far from his mind though; it was still his driving force. Several times he had to remind himself that rash decision were a terrible idea; he wanted to badly to find the Weasley's home and find that damn rat and tear him limb from limb… but it had been this angry impulsivity that landed him in Azkaban in the first place; if he'd just gone with Hagrid and Harry that night he'd have been able to explain the situation to Dumbledore. If he hadn't lost his damn mind to grief and anger and gone after Peter… ugh Peter. He forced himself to keep Harry in his mind, not revenge. This became his coping mechanism against his baser instincts of anger and revenge. Focus on Harry.

As he made his way closer to London, the urge to see his godson became overwhelming. If he could find Peter and prove his innocence, would Harry ever forgive him? He knew that Peter had been the one who gave the secret up, but it was his, Sirius', fault that Peter had been trusted with the secret in the first place. He wanted to know his godson more than he could say. He needed to tell him stories about his parents, he needed to make sure that the kid knew how loved he was. He needed to be there for him like James and Lily would have wanted.

Now the only question was where to find him. The rumor had gone through the prison that Harry'd been sent to live with muggle relations after… after that night. The wizarding world was outraged, and a hateful guard had made sure to inform him that the Boy Who Lived had been sent to muggles and it was entirely his fault. Then the bastard had delivered a hard kick in the ribs, like news of Harry's placement hadn't been shock enough.

Prongs had had no muggle relatives, so it must've been Lily's family. Her parents had passed while they were still at Hogwarts, but she did have a sister. A bitch of a sister; he'd met her briefly at their parents' memorial. Lily rarely talked about her but he'd once walked in their kitchen door to find her quietly weeping at the table over the post. He'd been shocked when she'd confessed that her sister had sent back her Christmas card unopened. He'd picked up the envelope and stared at the _RETURN TO SENDER_ scrawled heartlessly across the front as he listened to Lily tearfully give him the rundown of the relationship, or lack thereof, with her muggle sister. He could understand her sorrow; no matter what Regulus chose to do with his life, part of him would always miss his brother.

What had been the address of that letter? It had been in Surrey, he remembered that because he had offered to pop over and spray paint rude things on their front door. What was their name… Dungley? Hadn't he called them _Dung_ley to try and make her laugh? But that wasn't their actual name, just similar…. Dursley! He could just look them up! Brilliant. Now to steal some clothes so that he could use a phone booth….

Three days later he arrived as Padfoot on Privet Drive in Little Whinging and strolled casually down the sidewalk looking at house numbers. As he passed number eight he heard shouting and ducked into a hydrangea bush. He peeked out and nearly dropped dead at what met his sight. A carbon copy of adolescent James Potter was storming up the street towards him. Merlin's saggy bollocks, it could be no one but Harry. And he had a Hogwarts trunk; it _was_ him! He stood frozen in shock for so long Harry had almost rounded the corner before he got it together to follow him. Where could he possibly be going, walking? He was too young to know how to Apparate… was he meeting someone? The kid seemed furious. Sirius quietly stalked his godson through the darkening streets, wondering where in the blue blazes he was going. Finally, after a quarter hour, he stopped by a play park and seemed to look around as if confused.

Sirius ducked into a narrow alley as Harry turned and sat on the curb. His head hung and his shoulders slouched as if in defeat. What was wrong with him? Without thinking, he took a step forward and Harry's head snapped up at the sound of a twig snapping under his paw. In an instant, Harry's wand was in his hand and he was on his feet. Sirius had only a moment to be proud of his godson's reflexes and instincts before they were both nearly run down by the Knight Bus. Sirius watched sadly as Harry boarded the bus and it whisked him away. It was for the best though; he couldn't have just changed back into himself and said "Hi, Harry! I'm your godfather! I've escaped from prison to commit the murder I was accused of in the first place!" No… it was better this way. He had to take care of things before he could contact Harry. He left Little Whinging and high-tailed it to Grimmauld Place in the hopes of being able to stay there and then make contact with someone to help him get that dirty rat.

. . . . . . . .

Sirius had watched his parents' house for two days before he finally ventured up the front steps. He wondered if he'd be able to get in without a wand, but he needn't have worried. As soon as he touched the knob the lock clicked and the door swung open. He sent a silent thank you to his father who, apparently, hadn't disowned him as the house recognized him. The place was covered in filth and he shut the door silently behind him, listening intently. He could tell by the undisturbed dust that no one had been in the house in years. He wasn't exactly sure how long his father had been dead… he'd already been in Azkaban. His lovely mother had passed not long after her favored Regulus had disappeared. Heartbreak, they said. Pah. As if his mother'd had a heart. He crept up the stairs on full alert, because really, Merlin only knew what was lurking there. He frowned as he pushed open the door to his childhood bedroom, conflicted at how he felt to be back there but it turned into a full-on grin when he saw that his mother hadn't been able to take his posters down. Victory.

Merlin, it looked exactly like it had the night he'd fled to the Potter's at sixteen. Here he stood at thirty-two and it looked untouched. He walked slowly in, gas lamps flickering to life; eyeing all the dust he'd have to clean by hand to make it habitable if he felt safe enough to stay. He spotted a simple brown box placed randomly in the middle of the floor. Well, he certainly hadn't left that there. The walked over to investigate and his hands paused when he read _Black, Sirius O_. printed in blocky letters across the top. It was still sealed. Curiosity getting the better of him, he immediately tore into the box and let out a surprised laugh when he pulled out his leather jacket. It dawned on him that this was what he'd been wearing that night. This had come from Azkaban. He pulled out a Rolling Stones t-shirt from where it had been crumpled unceremoniously underneath the jacket, this was his favorite shirt: his mother had hated it. He slowly went through the box; setting aside the watch that no longer kept time, sliding a tarnished silver ring onto the thumb of his right hand, he grinned at his motorcycle boots… he loved those things. But then his breath caught in his throat and he froze in disbelief. _No_. Surely not; it was too easy... He reached in and his eyes fluttered shut as his fingers slowly closed around the smooth wood of his wand. His entire arm tingled as he lifted it out of the box. They hadn't destroyed it? He couldn't believe they'd just tossed it in a box and given it to his family… but they usually snapped wands as a part of the sentencing! They had never officially sentenced him, but he assumed that they'd have snapped it. They had just chucked him in Azkaban and forgotten about him… perhaps it had just been forgotten about during the madness of Voldemort disappearing? An oversight? Some young auror in training told to take his things and give them to his family, not really knowing what to do without the official sentence of wand-snapping? He straightened up and stared reverently at his wand. This was really too good to believe. He glanced around and with a quick flick, Vanished the dust from his room. He laughed again in amazement. He spent the next half hour reducing the level of filth in his room before he realized how hungry he was. He passed a hand over his ribs and stomach. How long before he stopped looking like death warmed over? He needed to put some weight on before he met Harry… he didn't want to scare the kid. There was no way there'd be food in the kitchen...

"Kreacher?" He asked aloud, after sudden inspiration. With a sharp crack the elf in question appeared before him.

"Oh, it's the bad one. The one who broke mistress's heart." Kreacher glared up at him from under sagging eyelids.

"Yes, yes, I certainly did. Now. Is there any decent food to be had in this house?" He asked, hating the sight of the elf now more than ever. The fact that he looked old and frail made Sirius all the more bitter. He refused to feel sympathy for anything that had been involved in his dreadful childhood.

"Kreacher will cook for master Sirius if he wishes, but the pantry is empty." Kreacher answered him and continued under his breath, "Traitor that he is, shame of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black."

"Yes well, I want you to sneak to the market and get some food… enough for me for a week or so. I forbid to be seen by anyone that would recognize you as belonging to the Blacks, and I forbid you speaking to anyone. Is that understood?" He took the elf's glare as an affirmative answer and grinned as the elf left him alone again. He decided he'd need to spend some time in the kitchen to make it fit to eat in as apparently Kreacher hadn't been doing much of anything in regards to up keep. He strolled downstairs, not taking as much care to be quiet this time when a voice to his left nearly stopped his heart.

"YOU!"

He whipped his head around so fast his neck cracked and stared into the shocked face of his mother. He was sure his expression mirrored hers, even as hers turned to mad hatred.

"Ungrateful heathen! Shame of my flesh!"

"Mother, how lovely to see you." He glared sourly as he cast a silencing charm on her. "Shrew."

Walking away from his mother he made a mental note to ask Kreacher to move the portrait to the attic. Or burn it. Either way. It felt so good to use magic again. He thought it would be a good idea to place a new Fidelius charm on the house… it might occur to the officials at some point that he might come back here. Idiots.

He went about his evening, relishing in his freedom and his ability to perform magic. What also felt good? A bath. Clean clothes. And the bed. It had felt like lying on a cloud. For a little while… he'd had to go to the parlor and sleep on the slightly harder sofa there. Turns out he'd been right and the bed was so soft he couldn't sleep.

He awoke the next morning with renewed purpose: contact someone to help him get Peter. He rummaged through a desk in his room and pulled out a parchment and quill… now, who to trust? There was really only one.

Many hours and many crumpled pieces of parchment later, he stared at his best hope. He said a prayer to any god who would listen that his letter would be believed.

_August 28__th_

_Moony,_

_Please read this with an open mind. _

_Where to begin? I've no doubt you've heard of my escape. (Front page, above the fold! (Forgive the pathetic attempt at humor; I believe I've lost my touch.)) I know you must think me mad and you probably believe that it was I who gave up James' and Lily's location to Voldemort, but it wasn't. I will take any manner of truth serum you can find, I'll make a Wizard's Oath, anything. I would even turn myself in if promised an actual trial. Well, I would if I trusted them._

_The week before James and Lily were killed I talked them into making Peter the Secret Keeper. I thought that I was the obvious choice and therefore Peter wouldn't be given a second look. After all, who would think that twitchy little Peter would be trusted as a Secret Keeper? He betrayed us, Moony. He betrayed them and handed them to Voldemort on a silver platter._

_When I left Godric's Hollow after finding James and Lily that night, I did go straight for Peter. I did have every intention of killing him but the little rat pulled one over on me, should've been in Slytherin that one. He shouted about how I had done it, severed one of his fingers, and blew the street up behind him. Then he turned into Wormtail and fled; I watched him dodge every spell I threw as he scarpered. And all they found of him was his finger, because the rest of him was down the sewer. Bloody coward. It's my fault they're dead, but it was my terrible idea, not any betrayal on my part that caused it._

_That was twelve years ago, but a few weeks ago I was handed a Daily Prophet that showed Wormtail sitting on the shoulder of one of the Weasley kids, happy as you please. It's him, Moony. That rat was missing a toe and had those stupid little tufts of hair like Peter did. You remember? Never saw another rat with fur like that. And I've seen a lot of rats after so long in prison._

_Moon, I can only imagine what's going through your brilliant mind right now, but there is a simple way to test my story. When the youngest Weasley boy gets to Hogwarts, you and Dumbledore get his pet rat and cast the spell on him. (I read you made DADA professor- well done, mate.) If nothing happens, it was a wasted walk to Gryffindor tower and I'll not try to contact you again. If he turns into Peter Pettigrew… an innocent man may get what's left of his life back._

_I won't tell you where I am so that you can honestly say you don't know and that you haven't harbored a fugitive or any rot like that, but please, do this for me. Marauder's honor, Moony: I didn't betray Prongs and Peter's alive._

_Padfoot_

Remus Lupin stared at the letter in his trembling hands for nearly twenty minutes before he could take in its meaning. He staggered backward until he hit the sofa and collapsed with little grace into the cushions, still clutching the missive. The words swam in front of his eyes as he recalled the night he'd lost every one of his best friends in one fell swoop. His heart pounded in his chest and a sweat broke out on his skin… he'd never wanted to believe that Sirius had betrayed them, that he had killed poor Peter so brutally. But they had known there was a traitor in their midst and to be honest, he hadn't thought Peter was clever enough to pull it off.

Could Sirius be telling the truth? It was awfully risky taking the chance of contacting anyone from his past while he was the most wanted man in Britain. And what a silly thing to make up… perhaps Azkaban had robbed him of his sanity? The Weasley boy's rat could be any rat. In all likelihood Sirius was wrong about him. But… if Sirius had killed Peter, he'd wouldn't break out of Azkaban, take the risk of contacting someone who thought him guilty, only to make up some wild story. What good would that do him? If Sirius was guilty, he'd be running as fast and as far as any of his legs, two or four, could take him. Sirius' supposed guilt had never sat well with him. That was why, in the two months since his escape, he hadn't told a soul about his Animagus form. He was the only one left who knew about it and it was Sirius' only hope for survival at this point. He hadn't been able to stomach the thought of taking that away from his former friend.

He read the letter again, nodded to himself and folded the letter. He would talk to Dumbledore. Sirius had a point: if he was wrong about the rat there was no harm done and only a few wasted minutes. If Sirius was right and he did nothing… allowed Peter to go free after all this time… he shook his head. He couldn't do that to Padfoot if he was telling the truth. He tried to stifle the hope building in his chest that Sirius was, in fact, telling the truth. His throat ached at the thought that it was possible his best friend hadn't betrayed them after all and that he'd spent twelve years in hell for a crime he hadn't committed.

At the moment though, he poured himself a short glass of firewhiskey and walked out to his back garden. He stepped barefooted onto the lawn, took a deep breath of the night air and scanned the trees. Would he see eyes shining back at him, wondering about the letter he'd just read? He stood outside for an hour watching, waiting. Finally resigned, he went back in. Where ever Sirius was, he wasn't here.

Sirius, as it happened, was in London. He managed to stay in London for another entire day before he was overwhelmed by the urge to make the journey north. Knowing that Remus had gotten his letter the day before and that all the necessary players might be at Hogwarts tomorrow… it was too much to bear. He packed a few changes of clothes and a hamper of food and Disapparated to a forest just outside of Hogsmead. All he could do now was avoid dementors and pray that Moony believed his letter. He tried to convince himself that he'd waited this long already; a little more time wouldn't kill him.


	3. A Capture

The evening of September first Remus sat nervously across from the headmaster watching the man's blue eyes race over the letter in his hand. Would he be willing to give Sirius the benefit of the doubt? He thought he probably would… look at everything the old man had done for Snape!

Albus reached the end and laid the paper down. He stared at it for a moment, his chin resting on his steepled fingers. Eventually he looked up to meet Remus' eyes over his spectacles in his usual penetrating gaze.

"I assume it's true that Peter Pettigrew was or is an unregistered Animagus." Remus nodded confirmation. Albus stared hard at him for a moment and Remus felt sure he knew what was coming and he struggled not to squirm. Finally Dumbledore sighed and gave a resigned laugh. "I don't even want to know how the least talented of you four managed to become an Animagus." But then a thought occurred to him and his gaze sharpened again. "Although, if our little jaunt up to the Tower yields no results, I will insist that you tell the aurors of Sirius' form."

Remus cleared his throat and tried to look innocent, but Dumbledore didn't buy it. "If Peter managed it, at least one other of you all did also. It would go a long way to explain how Sirius has successfully stayed on the run."

"You'll go then?" Remus asked, getting excited despite his best attempts to stay realistic.

"Indeed. We both will. I believe we'll take Minerva and Severus with us as well, the more witnesses the better if it turns out to be true. Plus I imagine someone would need to stay and explain to things to Mr. Weasley."

"When will we do it?"

"Well, as they say, there is no time like the present." He raised his wand and his phoenix Patronus shot away, presumably to summon the other two.

Together Remus and Dumbledore headed towards Gryffindor Tower, collecting McGonagall on their way. Snape caught up with them outside her office. Dumbledore explained nothing, he simply handed her the letter and her beady eyes flickered as she rapidly read it, her lips getting thinner and thinner the further down the parchment she got.

"Oh, Albus. Could this be true?" She asked quietly as she handed Snape the letter to read for himself.

"I do not know. We are about to find out, I believe."

"Please tell me you do not believe this tripe?" Snape asked in his oily low voice, his eyebrows up near his greasy hairline as he quickly finished the letter. Remus glared at him.

"I'll believe him if this rat turns into Pettigrew, that's certain." Dumbledore replied.

"Must I accompany you? This is just another juvenile prank of Black's. And Lupin's apparently." The party paused when Snape stopped walking. Remus smiled pleasantly back at Snape, refusing to be drawn into the one of pissing matches that his friends had loved so much with the greasy-haired git.

"Yes, I request you accompany us. If the allegations are true I want to take every precaution that Pettigrew is apprehended and punished properly for his crimes." Dumbledore said, staring at Snape more sternly than usual.

"This is a waste of time." Snape insisted, glaring at the headmaster. Remus' and McGonagall's eyes flicked back and forth between the stubborn men.

"Is it a waste of time to follow up on a rumor that the person responsible for James' and Lily's deaths may not be paying for his crimes?" Remus' eyes narrowed at the strange phrasing… Dumbledore put a strange emphasis on Lily's name. Snape was quiet for a moment and seemed to be debating. Without comment he swept up the hallway in front of them, looking as much like a bat as ever. Remus was surprised he'd complied without further argument; Snape hated Sirius with a burning passion. The other three followed quickly behind Snape's quick pace. Dumbledore had a sad little smile on his face and McGonagall seemed as though she hadn't listened to the conversation at all. Sirius had been a favorite of hers and it didn't look like she knew what to do with a possibility that he was innocent.

Remus trailed behind the party trying so desperately to stay calm that the walk was a blur and before he knew it they were climbing the stairs to the third year boy's dorm. The prospect of seeing Peter again, him being the traitor, and that Sirius might be innocent was too much for Remus to comprehend at the moment.

They paused outside the door and heard the muffled sounds of adolescent boys talking rowdily. Remus was forced to think back to his own dorm mates and how loud James and Sirius could get. Merlin he missed them both… and now there was a chance he could get Sirius back. Dumbledore's knock was answered quickly by Seamus Finnegan who had a sarcastic remark ready on his lips- that died a very fast death at the sight of the headmaster and three professors.

"Professor Dumbledore?" He asked, as if not believing his eyes.

"Indeed, Mr. Finnigan. Might we come in?" Dumbledore asked, as if inviting himself in for tea, not checking to see whether a thirty-four year old wizard traitor was living in secret with thirteen year old boys.

Seamus backed silently out of the way and the noise level in the room dropped to zero. Remus could see the rat in question lay curled up on the blankets of Ron's bed.

"Boys, I am afraid that I have the need of a private conversation with Mr. Weasley…" Ron visibly gulped and the other four boys leapt to their feet. "And Mr. Potter." Remus waited impatiently as the three other boys filed past. He closed the door behind them, casting several charms to keep it closed, locked, and private.

He turned back to see Harry and Ron looking pale and anxious, Remus suspected they were searching through recent transgressions to determine if anything was significant enough to warrant the present company. The rat stirred and slowly slunk back towards the pillows, presumably to hide out of sight. Was it simply a rat looking for a more comfortable spot, or was it Peter trying not to be noticed? Remus silently cast a charm that sealed the entire room- windows, chinks in the stonework, all of it. If that was Peter he was not getting away this time.

"Do not fret boys, you are not in trouble." Dumbledore chuckled softly as both boys visibly relaxed. Snape's teeth grinding was almost audible.

Remus wanted to stride across the room, jerk the rat up by the tail, and cast the charm that would force an Animagus back to his human form…. He restrained himself, barely.

"We are here for a rather strange reason, I must confess. I myself am slightly disbelieving." He walked slowly towards Ron's bed, Remus, Snape, and McGonagall advancing with him, spreading out so that they stood to either side instead of behind, the boys no longer seemed relaxed. "We are here, Mr. Weasley, to see about your rat."

"Scabbers?" Ron asked incredulously, but at the same moment said rat took a flying leap off the bed and raced towards the corner of the room, apparently knowing a better hiding place than under the pillows. Dumbledore was far quicker than Scabbers, however; and shot a spell that froze him in midair.

"Indeed, Scabbers. Professor Lupin was sent a very peculiar bit of post just last week. It accused your rat of being an Animagus." Dumbledore continued as if there had been no interruption.

"But… but he's been in my family for twelve years!" Ron protested, staring anxiously at his now frozen pet. Harry stood silently, his eyes flickering between all parties, Remus tried not to remember how pale the boy had been after the dementor had left. The adults froze at Ron's statement. "He was my brother Percy's rat!"

"Twelve years…" Minerva murmured under her breath. Remus' muscles clenched and a surge of adrenaline went through him: Sirius was right.

"Luckily, there is a simple way to determine if this accusation is true. A spell will force him to reveal his true form if he is an Animagus and if he is not, he will be unaffected by it and will only ever be your pet rat." Dumbledore said kindly. They all stood with bated breath, even Ron not speaking, as Dumbledore silently raised his wand and with a strange little twirl, a faint bluish light washed over the rat. It was instantly obvious that something was happening. Harry and Ron both scrambled backward as the adults pointed their wands at the rat quickly and grotesquely growing into a small, dumpy man. He was simultaneously hit by four spells and crumpled to the floor in a weirdly stiff manner, wrapped tightly in a very thick rope.

"Oh my." Albus said quietly as all they all stared in disbelief. "Well, I did the rope. What did you three do?" He asked, his eyes twinkling for a moment.

"Body-bind," Minerva answered faintly, her eyes wide and face pale.

"Stunner." Remus answered with no sympathy.

"Impediment Jinx." Snape said with his upper lip curled in distaste.

"Well, that'll about do it." Dumbledore smiled.

"Good gracious, Albus. Black is innocent then." McGonagall put a hand to her chest and lowered herself to sit on the nearest bed, running a shaking hand over her head. "Twelve years he was there… and he didn't do it!"

"Sirius Black you mean?" Harry asked in surprise, his hand still clenched around a wand that Remus hadn't even seen him draw. Ron was staring at Pettigrew looking disgusted. Remus imagined the boy would be quite creeped out by the realization that he'd been sharing his bed with that man for years. In fact, he'd suspected that as soon as the kid regained the ability to speak, he was going to turn lose a full-on freak out.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore patted Minerva kindly on the shoulder. "Professor McGonagall shall give you a short explanation, but I am afraid most of the story will have to wait until tomorrow; we will be quite busy dealing with Mr. Pettigrew here." He pointed his wand at the unconscious man and levitated him towards the door; he turned back at the last moment. "Mr. Weasley, I am quite sorry about your rat. I imagine that in a few weeks, a very grateful Sirius Black might just replace him for you. Minerva, we shall see you in my office as quickly as you can."

Ron and McGonagall nodded weakly and watched as the four men left, three walking and one floating along in front of them.

Remus walked quickly behind Albus, glad to see the man's face had lost its humor. "Who do we floo about this? Fudge?"

"Merlin, no. We need someone competent; if Sirius is going to be fully cleared we need someone to do the job properly. We'll call Madam Bones; she's head of the DMLE for a good reason." Dumbledore waved his wand and the silvery flash of his Patronus shot out of his wand and disappeared into the night. "Let us hurry."

The group barely made it back to Dumbledore's office before his floo lit and a stern looking woman stepped through, flanked by two tough looking aurors. Her eyebrows rose at the sight of the bound man.

"Merlin, Albus, by the sound of your message I thought you'd caught Black. But who's this then?"

"This, Madam Bones, is Peter Pettigrew." Dumbledore answered, depositing him in the center of the room so that he was standing, facing the auror team.

"Pe… Peter Pettigrew? Well that's impossible. He's twelve years dead." She protested, striding forward to look more closely at the man's face.

"Have you any Veritaserum?" Dumbledore asked politely. "Apparently he has been living in his Animagus form, a rat, with one of our students. We apprehended him just now in Gryffindor Tower. He was indeed a rat when we found him."

"Yes… yes, I have some." She said, reaching into a pocket. Remus had to give her credit, she must be stunned by this information but she was still a pro. She was head auror for good reason.

"How did you find out he was a rat?" She asked as she gestured to one of the men behind her to begin taking notes.

"Believe it or not, Sirius Black contacted Remus here." He handed her the letter and her eyes roved over it, widening as they went.

"This is the first contact any of you have had with Black?" She asked abruptly. They all answered in the affirmative. "And he… provided the information that lead to… this?" She gestured to Pettigrew, still unsure about him.

"Indeed." Remus felt a little flare of pride in his former, and hopefully soon to be reinstated, best mate.

"Let's wake him up then. Everyone be sure you pay attention, only if this is really Pettigrew these memories will be picked over like none before."

Dumbledore flicked his wand at Peter and he snorted awake, looking fearfully at the bodies surrounding him. He immediately tried to turn back into Wormtail. "So sorry, Peter, but I'm afraid you'll have no luck. I'm quite good at charms." Dumbledore smiled coldly at the small whimpering man.

Madam Bones forcefully grabbed his cheeks and squeezed until he was forced to open his mouth to alleviate the pressure, she poured several drops of the clear liquid in and covered his mouth and nose until he swallowed. "What is your name?" She asked after a slow count to ten to make sure the potion was in his system.

"Peter Pettigrew." The aurors gasped, but Madam Bones remained stoic.

"Where have you been the last twelve years?"

"With the Weasleys."

"Did they know who you were?"

"No."

"Were you the Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter's location in Godric's Hollow Halloween 1981?" Dumbledore stepped forward to contribute.

"Nnnn -Yes." The potion forced the truth out from his lips.

"It was not Sirius Black?" Madam Bones clarified.

"No, they chose me at the last minute."

"Did you give the secret to Voldemort?"

"Yes." Every jaw in the room clenched and fists tightened on wands.

"Did you kill those muggles the morning on November first, 1981 when Sirius Black cornered you?"

"Yes." Pettigrew was crying by this point, knowing that he was done for.

"Were you there that night?" Snape growled. "In Godric's Hollow? Were you there?"

"No." Peter's voice was quivering and his eyes were rolling.

"Did you frame Sirius?" Remus asked, sick to his stomach.

"Yes."

"Do you have any knowledge of Voldemort's current whereabouts?" Dumbledore asked, his tone full of ice.

"No."

"Have you any plans to harm Harry Potter?"

"No." Small comfort, that.

"Do you have the Dark Mark?"

"Yes."

"Did you take it willingly?"

"Yes."

Madam Bones unceremoniously Stupefied him and turned to the others in the room. She stared in silence for a moment, apparently at a loss for words. She huffed out a long breath. "Merlin's beard. Twelve years he was in." She said, obviously referring to Sirius. "I need to get back and get to work on this. I'll get the paperwork for Black started immediately. He'll be able to own the Ministry if he decides to."

"That's it?" Remus asked. "Just some paperwork and he'll be cleared?" There was not a single doubt in Remus' mind that Sirius was innocent. The man he was accused of murdering was sitting right there, having just confessed to all the wrongdoing! Guilt began to seep in with the dawning understanding: he himself had betrayed Sirius… he'd never sent a letter. Never visited. Never pushed for a trial on his friend's behalf.

Bones stared hard at all of them. "That should be it yes. He was never formally charged so really all I have to do is charge Pettigrew, call the manhunt off of Sirius, and convince Fudge to admit that the Ministry made this large an error. That'll be the hardest part."

"Indeed. Cornelius does not like to admit to any folly. If he won't listen to you I'll lean on the Wizengamot. Keep me posted, please, Amelia. Sirius has suffered enough."

"Of course, Headmaster. Boys." She gestured her men to Pettigrew and they left through the floo. Remus turned and collapsed into the chair he'd sat in only an hour ago and blinked in surprise as McGonagall slouched in the one next to him. He hadn't even noticed her return.

"I don't know about you lot, but I feel the need of a glass of brandy." Dumbledore said, sounding his age. He floated glasses to his professors who accepted them gladly.

Remus sat in a daze. "I… I don't even know." He looked up to see an understanding gaze from Dumbledore and a glazed look from McGonagall, Snape looked as though he might sick up and in fact, left the room without a word. "I'm so glad he didn't do it…" Remus said, sipping his brandy, trying to ignore the ache in his throat. "I never wanted to believe it…"

"None of us did." McGonagall answered quietly. "He was too loyal. We should've insisted on a trial. We should've done more!"

"I am afraid so. But all we can do now is move forward and help clear his name so that he can return to his life."

"This... I'm wondering…" Remus began, shakily setting his glass down and trying to gather his thoughts. "There's no way Fudge could trump up charges to avoid admitting they've kept an innocent man in prison for twelve years without ever trying him… is there?"

Minerva's lips thinned even more and Dumbledore's eyes held none of their usual twinkle. Remus' stomach sank as neither immediately responded in the negative. "Silence is an affirmation." He muttered quietly, rising from his chair to pace the room. Pausing in front of the window he looked out onto the Forbidden Forest. Was Sirius out there, waiting for him to give him the news? "What if… what if the Prophet somehow found out that Pettigrew had been captured? What if the question of Sirius' innocence was raised in the press before the Minister could attempt to hush it up like they do everything else that displays their incompetence?"

Minerva straightened in her chair and looked at Dumbledore who stared thoughtfully at Remus before he answered. "While I hate to start manipulations so soon… I believe we are going to have to play the game to the best of our ability to successfully clear his name. He has been much maligned in the press over the years; the seeds of doubt must be planted as quickly as possible. Perhaps Rita Skeeter will get an anonymous bit of information. Perhaps she'll be told of Pettigrew's capture… perhaps even be advised to look into Sirius' arrest record to discover he was never given a trial, which violates his rights according to wizard law." Dumbledore's idly refilled his glass, never once looking up at either of the two professors. "The Prophet will be an interesting read at breakfast."

There was an awkward pause as Albus finished. Remus cleared his throat, "Yes. Well. If we're finished I believe I'll turn in. Good night, professors." Remus fairly ran back to down the corridor, his mission firming up in his mind as he went.


	4. A Reunion

A/N: A special thanks to my sister, JennR, who has been my sounding board for this fic- and was the one who requested (see also: demanded) that I write it in the first place.

Also, how many F-bombs does an M rating make? I don't know if Sirius' potty mouth makes this story an M or not... let me know if you think I should bump it up. Thanks!

* * *

Rem

Remus pointed his wand at his own face, transfigured a few of his features, and hurried into the teacher's lounge. Better to use this than the floo in his quarters; anyone determined enough could get into this room. He stuck his head in the floo and called out for Rita Skeeter's office, saying a quick prayer she was working late.

A fussy predominantly green office came into view and indeed the blond witch was seated at her desk, eyeing him suspiciously.

"And you are?" She asked with an eyebrow raised.

"An anonymous source." He said, nearly feeling giddy with adrenaline.

Her gaze sharpened and she turned to face him more directly. "What's the story?"

"Peter Pettigrew is alive and was just taken into custody after confessing under veritaserum." He rushed out.

She stared at him frozen for nearly thirty full seconds. "Impossible." She said quietly though her wand was already flicking toward her Quick Quotes Quill.

He shook his head, "Confirm it with Dumbledore or Amelia Bones." Her mouth dropped open and she hurried across the room to sit in the chair facing the fire, apparently set up for conferences like this one. Her quill was already scribbling quickly over the parchment at her right shoulder.

"What did he confess?" She asked in a clipped, professional tone.

"To framing Sirius Black for the betrayal of the Potters and for killing those muggles in the street."

"But they found his finger… Black blew him to bits." She said, sounding as though she was ready to brush him off.

"He's an unregistered Animagus, he turns into a rat. Cut off his own finger. He's been hiding as a rat all these years. He also confessed to willingly taking the Dark Mark." She sat stock still as her quill worked steadily down the parchment.

"What else have you got?" She asked, a hungry gleam in her eye.

"Sirius Black was never given a trial, which is in violation of several laws. It's a shame that the magical population of Britain should have to fear for their right to a trial… perhaps especially when it seems that the crime Black was accused of- never charged with, but accused of- was committed by someone else. Looks like they sent an innocent man to Azkaban for twelve years without even giving him a trial… never questioned him under Veritaserum… nothing."

"Merlin's beard… Fudge is going to have to bend over and take it if Black decides he wants to make them pay..." Remus felt the muscles in his shoulders relax at her comment; she was going to go after the ministry, she believed what he'd said about Sirius. Well, it was the angle she'd chosen anyway.

She glanced over to be sure that her quill was recording everything properly and satisfied, continued her questioning. "How did he get into Hogwarts?"

Remus hesitated… he didn't want to bring anything down on the Weasleys, they were good people. "As the pet of an unknowing- and now traumatized- student."

"Who?"

"Let's leave the kid out of it." He said, hoping that she'd be distracted by other information.

"Was it Potter?" She asked, leaning forward, her eyes wide.

"No. I won't tell you who, but I assure you it wasn't Potter."

She nodded, apparently accepting his answer. "Bones and Dumbledore you said?"

"Yes, they were present for the questioning."

"How can I contact you if I have questions?" She was already moving back towards her desk and snatching up parchment to start writing.

"You can't. This is a one-time tip."

"Brilliant. If there's nothing else, I've got to get on this immediately to get it out in the morning."

Remus thought a moment, "Dumbledore was tipped off by a letter from Black himself." It felt awkward to refer to Sirius as 'Black', but he didn't want her guessing at his identity.

She paused and turned back to him. "You're barking." She said quietly.

"No. Black was the reason Pettigrew was discovered."

After quick goodbyes Remus pulled his head out of the fire and slowly stood. He winced as his knees protested kneeling on the hard stone for so long. He lifted the charms on his appearance and left the teacher's lounge, heading straight for the oak front doors. Letting himself out he walked quickly towards the Shrieking Shack, watching the tree line for movement or eyes glinting in the darkness. He'd bet his meager life savings that Sirius was here, waiting for news. He shivered at the chill from the dementors wafting across the grounds; thank Merlin they were outside the boundaries. Hopefully they'd be removed soon. As he approached the shack he stood a moment as if he was just enjoying the night air as he surveyed the grounds towards the castle to be sure no one was watching him. Satisfied that no one else was about he walked from the Shack towards the Forest.

"Padfoot!" He called quietly. If Sirius was in the vicinity, he would be able to hear him. There was no movement or sound. He walked closer until he was at the very edge of the trees. "Padfoot?" He listened intently and finally heard a soft huff of breath come from a few yards away and Remus' heart clenched at the sight of the large black dog that stepped into sight. "Sirius…" The dog stopped several feet away and looked up at him, seeming uncertain. Remus cleared his throat and fought the urge to throw himself bodily on top of Padfoot and beg forgiveness for being a wretched friend. "You were right; we got him. They questioned him under veritaserum and the bastard confessed everything." The dog froze, his ears up and eyes wide. "Sirius… god, I'm so sorry." His voice cracked on the last word, he'd never forgive himself for believing that Sirius had betrayed them. Suddenly the dog transformed and a pale, skinny Sirius Black stood in front of him, clad in his trademark denims and a Bob Dylan t-shirt. They stared at each other for a moment, neither knowing what to say.

"They got the fucker?" Sirius asked suddenly and Remus nodded. They stared for another moment before simultaneously closing the distance and catching each other in a rib-crushing hug. Sirius clung to his former mate, wondering where they would stand when the dust settled. Remus now obviously believed his innocence… could he forgive Remus for believing that he'd turned James over to Voldemort? A sly voice in his head reminded him that the time he had suspected that Moony was the spy. Though now he couldn't remember his reasoning for the suspicion.

The men stepped back and each cleared his throat, Sirius wondered if Moony's was a tight as his. He stared at the man, taking in his shaggy clothes and scarred skin. Poor Moony hadn't had anyone to distract him during the full moons. He supposed that Remus hadn't led a charmed life the last decade either. His bitterness eased a little… Remus'd had a hard life, too. He'd lost James, too.

"You believed my letter then?" He asked, and alright, maybe the bitterness was still there because his tone was lightly laced with it.

"I did. It didn't take much; I never wanted to believe that you'd done it." Remus said sincerely, and Sirius wanted to believe him, very badly. "I sat down to write to you so often… but I didn't know what to say. I finally did get one written about six months after… everything. But they wouldn't let me send it. They told me you were mad."

Sirius grimaced; he had acted like a madman for a while, shouting his innocence, demanding a trial. "What did it say?"

"Well. Nothing much really, I was pretty conflicted. I asked if you'd really done it; I wanted to hear it from you." Remus shoved his hands in his pockets and Sirius smothered a smile. It was his habitual 'I'm slightly uncomfortable' gesture. Nice to see that hadn't changed.

"Let's just leave it. We'll sort things out after, _if,_ I get out of this mess." Sirius asserted, he needed Moony in his corner right now; they'd deal with whatever anger issues they had later.

"You will, Pads. Dumbledore believes you, Amelia Bones- she's head of the Department of Magical Law Enforgement now, she's convinced. She said the only tough part will be getting Fudge to admit the ministry made such a mistake…"

"That's what I'm afraid of." Sirius said, heaving a sigh and leaning on the nearest tree.

"I wouldn't be too worried… they won't be able to hush it up. I'll bring you a copy of the_ Prophet_ in the morning." Remus said with a Dumbledore-ish twinkle in his eye.

Sirius straightened up and eyed his friend with curiosity. "What did you do?" His tone showed his amused curiosity; Remus was the least sneaky out of the Marauders…

"I may have leaked it that they caught Peter, you're innocent, and the ministry never gave you a trial."

"Bloody hell, Remus!" Sirius said a little too loudly. Both men looked around, warily. "I had better go. I'll be around, tell them to get rid of these fucking dementors." He took a couple steps back into the trees. "You didn't tell anyone about Padfoot did you?"

"No, of course not!" Remus looked a little affronted and that, if anything else, made Sirius feel better.

"Right. Just thought I'd check. Tomorrow morning with the paper?" Sirius asked a split second before he transformed.

"Yes, I have class straight away after breakfast but a break mid-morning."

**_SIRIUS BLACK: INNOCENT AFTERALL?_**

**_Peter Pettigrew Found Alive- Confesses to Muggle Killings and Framing Black for Potter deaths_**

_By: Rita Skeeter_

_In a shocking twist to this dark tale, a confidential informant came forward late last night asserting that a man long thought to be dead was discovered and apprehended at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yesterday evening. This man was none other than Peter Pettigrew; the very same that Azkaban-escapee Sirius Black allegedly murdered, along with thirteen muggles on the first of November 1981. Pettigrew was questioned under Veritaserum by Head of the DMLE Amelia Bones and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot Albus Dumbledore. Pettigrew confessed to the killings, to framing Black, and willingly being a follower of He Who Must Not Be Named. This reporter immediately reached out to Bones and Dumbledore for comment; Dumbledore did not immediately respond but Madam Bones confirmed the events by simply saying "_Pettigrew is alive and in custody; the investigation is on-going."

_The question of the hour is this: how was Black convicted for crimes which Pettigrew confessed to while under the effects of Truth Serum? The answer, dear reader, is shocking. Black never was convicted. Black was never charged. Sirius Black was incarcerated in Azkaban Prison for twelve year for a crime for which he was never put on trial. What has our world come to when our legal rights are cast aside and people are put in prison without being convicted and sentenced during a trial? _

_In yet another shocking twist, Pettigrew was discovered at Hogwarts due to a tip from none other than Black himself! Sirius Black seemingly managed to do what our Ministry failed to do: find the person responsible for the murders of James and Lily Potter and the no-less-lamented muggles. Unjustly thrown in Azkaban at the tender age of twenty one and now thirty-three, Sirius Black has spent over a third of his life behind bars. What will become of him now that Pettigrew has confessed to these crimes? Will the Ministry admit their heinous error? This reporter has every confidence that Madam Bones and her department will thoroughly investigate any crimes that may, or may not, have been committed by any of the parties involved, including our own Ministry._

Sirius read through the article twice before the shocked laugh bubbled up in his throat. He looked up at Moony who was smiling serenely- though his eyes betrayed hidden glee.

"This is perfect." Sirius said quietly. "I mean… this is the absolute best I could hope for." He glanced back down at the photo of him that accompanied the article. Only this time it wasn't his mad mug shot but a photo of him standing with Lily and James on their wedding day. His photographic self grinned happily at the camera with his arm around James' shoulders, every few seconds he turned the grin onto James and then reached across and tugged lightly on a lock of Lily's hair. She looked up and pretended to glare at him before the photo reset and they were all facing the camera again. James was alternating staring at Lily with adoration and returning Sirius' grin. It was an endearing photo and honestly it did as much to paint him in a good light as the article did. He wondered where Skeeter had gotten it or if it had been on file from the wedding announcement…

"She says a confidential informant… you said you did this?" He glanced up at Moony, hope stirring in his chest that his former mate had stuck his neck out for him.

Remus cleared his throat and nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Well, it was the least I could do really. I worried that the ministry would try to spin it and do something to make people forget what they did to you. I wanted to head them off at the pass as they say. I uh, I should've done better by you years ago."

They both stood in silence for an awkward moment, Sirius sort of agreeing with him, until he answered. "Well, as far as you knew I _was_ Secret Keeper and the only person who could have given them away."

"Still…" Remus started to argue.

"Let's just leave it in the past for now." Sirius interrupted, still not liking to hear Remus' be hard on himself- even if he agreed with him. "You know I'm innocent and that's more than I even hoped for a long time. That means more than you can imagine." Moony nodded his agreement. "Have you heard anything from the Ministry?"

"No, not yet. I imagine it'll be later today." Remus looked down at his wristwatch, "I had better go back in and get prepared, I've got seventh years in a half hour."

Sirius grinned. "Oh yeah, your first day!" Remus flushed a little and fiddled with something in his pocket. "You'll be brilliant." Remus laughed softly but Sirius' mood sobered. "Listen Moony, we can't keep meeting out here. We need to back off until my name is cleared."

"Hopefully it won't be too long…"

"Yeah well. I don't trust the ministry much. I'm going somewhere else to hideout til they decide what to do with me. I'll owl you tonight, respond and let me know if you hear anything?"

"Yeah, 'course I will. Where will you go?"

Sirius shook his head. "It's bad enough you've seen me twice without turning me in, I don't want you to be conflicted about telling the truth about knowing where I am."

"You know I wouldn't turn you in, right?" Remus said, staring intently at him.

Sirius studied the other man for a moment. "Yeah, yeah I do."

Remus nodded, satisfied at his answer and with slightly awkward goodbyes, went back to the castle.

Sirius Apparated to the top step of Grimmauld Place and walked in, his mind already working on what his next move should be. His only goal had been to get Peter caught… now that it had happened he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He ignored his mother's screeching and Kreacher's grumbling and went to his father's study. He poured a short glass of Firewhiskey – he'd been in prison twelve years he deserved a stiff drink, even if it was a bit early- and paced for a little while, thinking about different options. He could give an interview to the Prophet and tell his side… but that seemed stupid, there was no way he could know in what light they would present him and really there was no way he could do better than what was printed today. He could go to Dumbledore and see what the old man had to say… he was still fairly mad that he hadn't done anything to get him out of Azkaban or even get him a trial though. Should he just wait it out and see what happened? He couldn't just sit on his arse while his future was being debated by incompetent berks... He finished his glass and went back to the sideboard for a refill. What he really wanted to do was break into the ministry and murder Peter with his bare hands… but he needed him alive until he was cleared. He gave a wry laugh as a second thought occurred to him: he'd really like to go to a pub for a pint and a pick up a bird… but it was too risky, even if he changed his appearance. Plus he probably wouldn't have much success; he was looking pretty damn rough.

He sat down with a sigh at his father's desk and reread Skeeter's article. Remus must've played it exactly right; this was the only angle that would benefit him. Hopefully the court of public opinion would find him innocent this time around, because their guilty verdict before was the main reason he'd been chucked in prison and left to rot. Had they not been so bloodthirsty he might've been given a trial. But worry about his future aside, the fact that Remus had taken the chance to leak the information to the Prophet had lifted his mood considerably. It really meant the world to him that Remus had his back now. He'd lost two of his best mates but it looked like he might get Remus back.

"Kreacher!" He yelled happily.

With a pop the grouchy elf appeared. "Master called Kreacher? Nasty Master, the traitor…"

Sirius found he was in such a good mood that even Kreacher's foul muttering couldn't faze him. "Yes, I did. I'm quite hungry. I'd like you to prepare something for lunch, please."

Kreacher stopped his muttering and stared up at him. Sirius stared back curiously as the elf spoke quietly to himself. "Master has said please. Kreacher isn't knowing what to do… Master is always cruel to poor Kreacher." He felt a little twinge of guilt before he remembered that he hated the bleeding elf. The elf glared suspiciously and finally addressed Sirius. "What would Master like?"

"Your choice, Kreacher. I've been living on moldy bread and stagnant water for a long time. Anything will be better than that."

Kreacher eyed him for another moment then left the room. Huh. That was the least horrible encounter he'd ever had with the elf. He'd think about that later. For now, he planned on eating triple helpings of whatever Kreacher served…. He was vain enough that he didn't like seeing all his ribs when he looked in the mirror. Also, he didn't know how long he'd be able to hide out in his mother's home, so he ought to put on a few pounds while he could. Really he was probably down three stone from what he weighed when he went in.

He put his feet up and pondered his situation while he waited on lunch. Really what he should do is find a kick ass solicitor and get some legal advice. Yeah… he should do that. Why hadn't he thought of that before?

He spent the next half hour looking through his father's papers to find the contact information for his solicitor and had a short internal celebration when he found it. And let out a barking laugh when he recognized the name as a halfblood wizard. He bet his mum never realized that his father retained a non-pureblood solicitor. Perhaps his father's insistence on perfection had overridden his pureblood sensibilities.

He'd just pulled out a quill and parchment to begin his letter when Kreacher came in. "Master's food is ready." The elf croaked. "Why Master Regulus couldn't have come back instead of bad Master, Kreacher doesn't know…"

"Brilliant, could you bring it to me in here, Kreacher? Thanks." He said without looking up, ignoring the elf's griping.

"If master doesn't want to eat at the table… like a heathen…." Kreacher muttered as he snapped his fingers and a steaming plate appeared on the desk in front of him.

"Thanks, Kreacher." He muttered absently as he debated the wording of his letter. "Oh, and Kreacher? He looked up to see the elf turn back from the doorway. "I need you to get me an owl. A good one… fairly nondescript. Can you do that this afternoon?"

"Of course, Master… bad Master needs a bird to talk to his blood traitor friends… that's fine with Kreacher, he doesn't like posting letters like he had to last week…" Sirius only rolled his eyes at the elf, still feeling too good about things to lose his temper. The excellent meal that Kreacher had cooked for him would definitely help a bit as well; it was an amazing thing to be able to eat his fill again.

"Don't let anyone discover that you're with the Black Family. The same rules stand as when you went to the market: no communication with anyone besides what it takes to make the purchase."

"Yes, Master."

"Brilliant. I assume you've got access to some gold somewhere in this place?"

"Of course Master, Mistress kept some for Kreacher for such things; there is a fair sum left."

"Alright, quick as you can with the owl then, thanks." Sirius said distractedly, his mind on the letter to the solicitor.

He ate while he wrote his request for representation and advice. Satisfied with it he folded and sealed it. He then grabbed a second piece of parchment and wrote a quick note to Remus asking for an update. He made a mental note to tell Kreacher to fetch him a Daily Prophet every morning. He somehow didn't think that a subscription could be taken out for a home under a Fidelius Charm.

Kreacher returned just as he was sealing his note to Remus, levitating a large cage before him. "Master's owl." Sirius studied the bird as Kreacher set the cage and a bag of accessories on the desk and left the room.

"Well, you're beautiful, aren't you?" He murmured quietly to the gray and black bird. He picked up the card attached to the cage and read the owl's description.

_Northern Hawk Owl  
Seven months of age, Female  
This breed is known to be fiercely loyal and extremely protective, traits which make this species efficient post carriers. This specific bird has proven to be quite bright and has a particular fondness for a gentle pet between her wings._

Sirius smiled at the card, enjoying the bit of information provided by the breeder. He opened the door to the cage and the bird hopped up and onto the arm he presented. "Well, hello. Quite bright are you?" He reached up and felt the soft gray feathers down the back of her head. She made a soft sound and blinked at him. "Well, what to name you then? " She climbed up to his shoulder and inspected his hair with her beak while he set up her perch and water tray from the bag Kreacher left. He smiled when she made soft chirping sounds next to his ear. She seemed a happy bird. He transferred her to the perch and they stood looking at each other for a moment while he tried to think of a name for her.

Sudden inspiration struck and he smiled wryly. "How about Maat?" He laughed softly when she cocked her head to the side as if pondering the name. "Egyptian goddess of truth and justice? We could use a bit of that around here…" She hooted brightly so he took that as a yes. "Brilliant. Now, I've already got a job for you if you're up for it." He held up the letters and she hopped off her perch towards him. "Take the large one to Charles Bingley of Bingley, Lucas, and Wickham, please, and the small one to Remus Lupin at Hogwarts." He secured the letters to her leg and carried her to the window, which he opened for her.

He sighed as he watched her fly away… he felt almost human again. What to do while he waited on responses to his letters? He only had to debate a short moment before he decided that another round of lunch was the best option.


	5. A Lost Friend

A/N: This update took longer than I meant it to because I've recently become obsessed with BBC's Sherlock and it's oh so handsome star- who sounds exactly like a young Alan Rickman, by the way. My obsession with the show has lead me, to no one's surprise, to its fanfiction. So, blame Benedict Cumberbatch's attractiveness on the lateness of this chapter... I accept no responsibility. If you haven't watched it... do. It's on Netflix.

Also, many many thanks to the wonderful and amazing Henben for helping me figure out a new character that we meet in this chapter. It's not a Mary Sue, don't worry, but I've had to delete "y'all" out of rough drafts so many times I couldn't resist being able to put a few in on purpose.

* * *

_Padfoot,_

_I don't have much to report, I'm afraid. The aurors came and took our accounts of Peter's capture and initial questioning- mine, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape's (Severus is potions master now, don't get your knickers in a twist). They've not been forthcoming with any information and I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. They do seem to be taking everything very seriously though. Amelia Bones did tell us in secret that she is planning on filing the official charges against Peter in the next forty-eight hours. I'll keep you posted as any news comes to us. _

_Dumbledore seemed to know that I'd seen you- knows everything, that man. But when I mentioned how skinny you were he requested Severus brew you some Strengthening Solution and Draught of Rejuvenation. You're to take one phial of each every morning with breakfast for the next week. You can trust Severus, despite your history. He'd never disobey Dumbledore._

_Lovely owl, by the way. Send her back some time tomorrow and I'll give you any updates I have. _

_Take the potions, Padfoot. They really will help… you'll scare Harry whenever you get to meet him looking the way you do right now._

_Moony_

Sirius looked skeptically at the small collection of phials that accompanied Moony's letter. Trust Snivellus? Not likely. Maybe he'd feed one to Kreacher first, just to see what happened. Damn Moony, the comment about Harry was a low blow and he knew it. He'd probably take them now.

He really wanted to write to Harry, but perhaps that conversation was better left for face to face? What if he never got the chance to do it face to face? What if they caught him and chucked him back in Azkaban like they did the first time? He could write him a letter and give it to Remus to pass along in case something happened… yeah. He'd do that soon.

He opened the second envelope and saw the letterhead from the solicitor.

_Mr. Black,_

_I am delighted that you contacted our firm and will certainly do my best to secure your freedom. _

_I shall begin your case by immediately subpoenaing the transcripts of any interviews with Peter Pettigrew along with copies of your own record. A strategy of intense and public pressure on the ministry to force them to admit to your innocence is something we should employ immediately and I will begin as soon as you give consent._

_I would like to arrange a meeting with you at your earliest convenience. I understand that your situation is tenuous and I can guarantee the utmost discretion for your safety._

_I have concerns about several things, in addition to obtaining a pardon on your behalf: first, you are the last remaining member of the Black family line, aside from your female cousins who no longer carry the name, and are thusly entitled to the Lordship passed to you from your forebears. The title shall be bestowed upon you as soon as your status as a criminal is rescinded, assuming this is desirable to you, I shall begin that documentation as soon as possible._

_Secondly, the fact that you never received a trial is troubling indeed and we have a strong case if you wish to pursue litigation against the ministry, which I suggest we do immediately. The Ministry of Magic broke many laws when they imprisoned you without a trial and are undoubtedly fearful of the repercussions once those transgressions become known. This more than anything should speed up the process._

_Please respond with your availabilities as soon as possible,_

_Respectfully yours,_

_Charles Bingley_

Sirius hastily answered, giving the man carte blanche to get him out of this mess, promising compensation as soon as he was able to get into the Black vaults. He declined a face to face meeting for the time being though; he didn't feel secure enough to just turn up in someone's law office.

. . . . . . . . . .

That evening, after spending hours attempting – and failing- to write the letter to Harry, Sirius found himself in his bedroom feeling overwhelmed with the world. He sat down on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, huffing out a breath. He glanced around his childhood bedroom, somewhat at a loss of what to do with himself. He was still surprised that his lovely mum had left it untouched. He'd half expected to walk in and find that she'd torched everything. The night he'd left he hadn't taken anything with him; just stormed out the front door after a spectacular row and never came back. He smiled ruefully at the memory, he'd been lucky that the Potters were such wonderful people. He missed them almost as much as he missed James. With that thought he opened the top drawer in the dresser and instead of the matched socks he expected to see covering the false bottom he'd put in at fifteen, he saw a smallish cherrywood box. Where had this come from? He opened the lid and couldn't stop the gasp that erupted from this throat. His hands shook as he lifted the photo of Harry zooming about the Potters' living room on the toy broom he'd gotten him. He stared stunned for a moment, watching Jamie's legs run back and forth chasing the toddler. Tears ran unheeded as he stared at the evidence of the life that was gone. What else was in this box? He saw the photo had been accompanied by a letter from Lily and he read it quietly, hearing her voice as though she was speaking to him. He swiped a hand down his face and set it aside. He let his head fall back against the bed and tried to take deep breaths. God he missed them. He sat for a moment but when the tears didn't slow he gave up and turned his attention back to the box despite them… rifling through he realized that it was the contents of a drawer that had been in his desk in his cottage. Who had saved this for him? It could've only been his father; Remus might've done it but he couldn't have gotten it back into this house. The tears feel even faster now, perhaps the old man had loved him after all.

He spent the next couple hours going through the box of memories and the older photos from his dresser drawer that he'd left when he'd run away. He didn't think he'd ever cried as much as he did that night. He felt like Lily and James had died all over again, never having been able to really mourn until now. He finally fell into a fitful sleep that was punctuated by visions and nightmares of James and Lily's vacant stares. He woke up near dawn, photos and letters scattered across the blankets and his chest. He groggily waved his wand and sent everything neatly back into the box and got up to use the loo. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and was shocked to see his swollen and bloodshot eyes, still sunken from malnutrition. He looked like hell. Turning away from his reflection he stumbled back to bed and burrowed under the blankets and willed himself back to sleep.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The next several days passed quickly and with a fair level of stress for Sirius. He was in regular correspondence with Moony and his solicitor; Moony had very little to say about the situation because the aurors were still tight lipped. His solicitor, however, had made his presence known to the ministry the very next day by not-so-subtly filing all manner of documents to force them to do something about his pardon. How he could be pardoned when he hadn't been convicted he wasn't sure but he didn't know what else to call it. Sirius squirmed a bit at the knowledge that they'd either have to officially charge him with something or officially admit he was innocent. Either of those two options was better than living on the run. If he was charged then he'd go to trial and, seeing as he was innocent, he'd be acquitted. In theory.

There had been at least one article each morning when he read the paper and they continued to demand answers from the ministry. He felt a little thrill of adrenaline each time he read an article that implied that he was innocent. The wait for news about his freedom, however, was horrendous. In the time between his escape and the rat's capture he'd been so driven toward that goal that he hadn't really worried about much else. But now… fears that something would fall through or charges be falsified crept up on him. He would not go back to Azkaban. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't put it past the ministry to make something up to keep from having to admit that he was completely innocent, but he'd take a long walk off a short pier before he'd go back.

Three days after his capture Peter was officially charged with thirteen counts of murder for muggles he killed that day escaping Sirius, two counts of manslaughter for James and Lily and one count of child endangerment for Harry. Sirius thought the last count was ridiculous, Peter had known that Voldemort had every intention of killing the boy when he gave up their location. He'd gone to bed that night and lain awake for hours, torn between relief and satisfaction that Peter was about to get what he deserved, and mourning the loss of James and Lily and his relationship with Harry. Nightmares plagued him the entire night just as they had for the last several. He'd woken to the sound of his own scream and had eventually self-medicated with a bottle of Ogden's finest.

After a couple days' debate he had decided to trust Remus' assertion that Snivelly wouldn't poison him under Dumbledore's watch and he took the potions as instructed. It ended up very well because his energy was up and he'd gained more weight in the last couple days than he'd have thought possible. A good bit of it muscle, much to his delight. His mind was also a bit clearer and his ability to focus better.

Finally, a week after Peter's capture he received a bit of post that nearly knocked him off his feet.

_Sirius,_

_I am delighted to inform you that during a noontime press conference today the ministry is going to publicly declare that you are innocent of crimes against the Potters and the events surrounding their deaths. _

_ I suggest we make our own statement directly following that of the ministry. While I do not expect you to make a statement yourself, I feel it is imperative that you be present. Assuming you are willing, I would like ensure that you make as good an impression as possible this afternoon. Therefore I request that you join me at my offices as quickly as possible. I shall have a seamstress and a barber awaiting your arrival. If I may be frank, Sirius, I doubt you are looking well after twelve years in that dreadful place._

_Please reply if you're unable to comply with my request, otherwise I shall see you shortly._

_Charles_

Sirius read it through twice before he leapt into action with a mutter of "Bloody hell!" He rushed to the floo and called out for his solicitor's office.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped into a well-appointed reception room and was immediately greeted by a ginger haired man.

"Ah, Sirius. Glad you could make it so quickly." The man said stepping forward and offering his hand. "Charles Bingley. It's good to meet you in person."

Sirius shook the man's hand, "A pleasure." He answered automatically. "Is… is this really happening?" He asked, somewhat dazedly.

"Indeed it is, you'll be a free man this afternoon." Charles replied, grinning. "Come, sit. I've got a couple questions and then I'll turn you over to the barber and whatnot. I must admit, you're looking quite a bit healthier than I expected." Sirius sat and let out a dry chuckle at the man's comment.

"I managed to procure some potions. Believe me; I'm looking much better than I did a month ago."

"Jolly good. Well let's get down to business; we've got some housekeeping to do before the statement."

He had Sirius sign several documents accepting his title of Lord Black and possession of the Black estate. It also turned out that the Black family had a seat on the Wizangamot and its vote had been given to Lucius Malfoy in a convoluted bit of corruption that Sirius was keen to undo. He wasn't sure that he wanted to be involved in the day to day workings of the ministry and the obligations that came with a seat on the court, but he'd be damned if Malfoy would vote for him anymore. Although, if Sirius did take the seat he could cause a real ruckus… Something to think about another day.

After discussing these and a couple other uninteresting topics, Sirius broached the single subject that he cared about. "What will it take for me to get custody of my godson?"

"Harry Potter, you mean?" Charles asked, switching gears and reaching for a different stack of parchment.

"Yes." No, his other godson.

"Well, the Potters' will clearly states that they wanted you to raise him, but there's no record at the ministry of where he was placed when you were… unavailable. Rumor is that he was placed with a muggle family. I can only think of one man who could tell you who they are."

"Dumbledore."

"Indeed. Now, we can sue for custody given that the Potter's specifically stated that you were to have the boy but it may be easier to speak with Dumbledore yourself first. It may be that he'll happily turn Harry over to your care now that it's clear you're innocent."

Sirius thought about that a moment before he answered… if Dumbledore didn't want him to have Harry he'd bet his newly reacquired vault that Dumbledore would get his way. Then a different thought occurred to him that put a damper on his feelings of hope and elation. "Well start the paperwork but don't file it yet. I need to talk to Harry first and foremost. If he's happy where he is I'm not going to stir things up for him."

Charles stood and gave him a sad smile. "Alright, let me know when you've spoken to him." He came around his desk and gestured for Sirius to rise. "I'm going to turn you over to my junior partner while I take care of what we've discussed. She'll walk you through what to expect this afternoon while the seamstress and barber are sorting you out, alright?"

"Brilliant." Sirius worked up a smile, his elated mood had plummeted at the thought that Harry probably wouldn't want to live with him; he was still a stranger after all. He told himself that even if Harry didn't want to live with him, he could still be a part of his life. He'd loved that kid from the moment he was born and nothing would change that. At one time Harry had loved him, too, perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult to get back to that at some point, even if Harry lived somewhere else.

Charles ushered him into a room that appeared to be their law library. It had several large tables and a long sofa in front of a fireplace. It was on the cramped side, but was still comfortable.

"Take a seat and help yourself to the food and drink there on the table. The ladies will join you shortly."

Sirius nodded and sat back on the couch, staring at the small flames in the fireplace. His head was swimming… in a few short hours he would officially be free… he might even be able to talk to Harry soon. Maybe he could spend the weekend with Moony… Merlin, he'd have _options_. He chuckled and scrubbed his hands down his face. He'd have his life back this afternoon…

He sat quietly for a few minutes, too anxious to stomach any of the food they'd provided. Maybe he'd have a glass of firewhiskey though…

The soft noise of the door opening distracted him from his musings and he turned, expecting a seamstress or hairdresser and instead his eyes met a face that he'd seen just two nights ago. Albeit, the version he'd seen two nights ago was sixteen and had been smiling happily where this older version seemed to be holding back tears.

He stood slowly and turned to face her as she entered and closed the door behind her. They stared at each other silently for a moment before he overcame his surprise and spoke.

"Butler?" He asked in a shocked voice as he came around the sofa and stopped a few feet away from her, staring down into her familiar face.

The petite witch laughed softly, "We're all grown up now, Sirius. We can probably call each other by our first names." She spoke in an accent that had always amused him. Something about the way the Americans from the southern states added syllables here, smashed words together there… well to be honest when he'd first met her he thought she was slow thinking as well as slow speaking, but that impression had been quickly blasted by reality.

He smiled, glad for the distraction of that memory. "Charlotte, then. What are you doing here?"

"I'm the new junior partner." Her smile faded a bit and she reached for his arm. "How are you?"

He was nearly startled by her touch; he'd spent twelve years with virtually no human contact. When they were young she'd been the kind to casually touch her friends; hug them, loop her arm through theirs as they walked and whatnot. He'd been reminded of that when in every one of his photos she'd appeared in she had her arms around whoever was next to her; apparently time hadn't changed that. And they had been friends… Charlotte had been best friends with Lily during their years at Hogwarts. As his best friend had either been pathetically trailing after or been attached at the hip… or lips, to her best friend, they'd spent quite a bit of time together. He realized that it was really good to see her. "I'm… as well as can be expected I suppose." She gave his arm a squeeze and he watched in surprise when her eyes filled again.

"I was so shocked when I heard the truth…" She whispered and he began to bristle in indignation at the implication that she thought he'd done it. "No! I mean, I could never really believe that you could've done that to James and Lily. Y'all were brothers. I thought you must've been under the Imperious or something, but then when Charles told me that you were entirely innocent and they never even questioned you…" She shook her head. "God, I am so sorry, Sirius." She looked up at him and a single fat tear slipped down her cheek. He wondered what percentage of that tear was for him and how much was a remnant of her loss of Lily.

Before he could think of a suitable response she closed the distance between them and wrapped him in a tight embrace. His arms automatically closed around her and he felt her take a shuddering breath against his chest. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to cry all over you… I'm just overwhelmed. I can't believe what they did to you!"

He gave her a squeeze and rested his cheek on her hair. "Don't apologize. This is only the third hug I've had in twelve years, don't ruin it." She gave a soft gasp and he smiled when she clutched him even harder, splaying her fingers on his back as if she wanted to increase the surface area that she was touching. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the embrace; he'd always secretly enjoyed being cuddled… perhaps because he'd never had any affection growing up…. Perhaps he just enjoyed a pretty woman touching him…. Probably both. And it had been over a decade since he'd been this close to a woman; he quite liked it.

"Lord, I can't even imagine…" She said around a sniffle and they stood in silence for a few moments until she pulled away and dried her face. Her actions and words warmed his heart to a surprising degree; he'd been unsure how he'd be received if he was ever declared innocent and it was fairly brilliant to know that he now had at least Charlotte and Remus on his side. She waved her wand over her face to hide the redness from her crying and straightened her shoulders. After hoisting a smile back onto her face she picked up a parchment. "Let's get down to business and make you a free man, shall we?"

"That sounds brilliant." He laughed dryly. She fetched the seamstress and the barber and ushered them into the room. The first got to work immediately, her tape measure measuring him quickly while she recorded the numbers and eyed him furtively. She didn't seem afraid of him though just curious so he didn't let it bother him. Charlotte gave him a rundown of what he could expect from the Ministry's statement as well as the one that Charles would be giving and gave him a few pointers if he decided to say anything himself, though she discouraged him from doing so.

In no time at all it seemed that his hair was once again shiny and fell in attractive curls down to his chin, his beard was trimmed close and neat and he was looking dapper, albeit still skinny, in brand new robes with his denims and t-shirt shrunken and stowed in a pocket. He'd been much more comfortable before.

Charles entered the room and informed them time was up. Sirius squared his shoulders and prepared to publicly face the wizarding world for the first time in twelve years.


	6. A Free Man

A/N: So, I figured that I'd get some folks who didn't like that I had an American witch, but I did not expect that people would hate that I introduced a female character. I have to say that I don't see why Sirius can't be a godfather and have a woman in his life- as a friend or anything else. Personally I feel like poor Sirius needs a couple people in his corner and also that no one ever really talked to Harry about Lily in the books. Charlotte is my solution to both of those issues. I'm sorry if you disagree and that puts you off this story. I hope that you remember that this is fan fiction and there are a multitude of stories that may meet your tastes if this one doesn't. Charlotte, by the way, is very similar to Callie Duquesne from CSI Miami in looks and demeanor. :) Thanks for all the reviews! Y'all are so awesome!

Now, on to a VERY eventful chapter!

* * *

At noon he found himself standing on the steps of Gringotts, Charlotte on his right side and Charles standing near the podium, ready for his turn to speak. He was doing his best to seem impassive while inside he was nearly euphoric. He was very ready to hear the ministry tell everyone how they cocked up and that he was entirely innocent. He stood tall, head up, and surveyed the crowd. He immediately spotted a significantly older Rita Skeeter and resisted curling his lip at her. She was eyeing him as though he was a particularly juicy steak. Not in the fun way though. His gaze passed over several other people who were obviously press until a tall wizard with an abundance of gray hair could be seen making his way towards the steps. His stomach clenched at the sight of Dumbledore; so many conflicting emotions. Gratitude that he'd believed his letter and gone to find Pettigrew, anger than he'd never tried to get him a trial and just let him rot in Azkaban, worry for what he'd say about Harry's living with him. Perhaps the old man could spare him an hour this afternoon for discussion. He watched Dumbledore make his way over.

The man climbed the stairs and stood to his left. "Sirius." Dumbledore looked over his spectacles and Sirius suddenly felt fifteen again. "There is not time now for a proper discussion, but perhaps you could accompany me back to Hogwarts this afternoon?"

Sirius was partly glad that he wouldn't have to track the man down to talk about Harry but he was just bitter enough that he didn't want to immediately bow to the man's wishes. "I could meet you there after lunch." It was a small difference but it made him feel better than outright compliance.

Dumbledore nodded and turned to face the assembled witches and wizards as the bank doors opened and Amelia Bones approached the podium. It did not escape his notice that Fudge was not there. Yellow bastard.

She cleared her throat and looked stonily out at the avidly watching crowd. "Good day. I am Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones and I speak today on behalf of the Ministry for Magic and the Minister himself. It is with great personal and professional regret that I confirm that Sirius Orion Black," she turned slightly and gestured to him, "Is innocent of all the crimes he was suspected of committing during the war against He Who Must Not Be Named nor and he never in his service." Sirius maintained his calm façade but inside his heart was bursting. He'd waited so long for this. The crowd was listening raptly, taking in every word. No one seemed shocked so he supposed they had reached this conclusion from all the news about Pettigrew's arrest. Bless Remus for leaking all that to the press.

"The ministry is working diligently to uncover how Mr. Black slipped through the system and we wish him the best in his future endeavors." She nodded brusquely and ignored a multitude of shouted questions. As she turned away from the podium her eyes locked on his and she sent him a small smile. She had been an instructor while he had been in auror training and had taught some of the courses he'd taken. Her no-nonsense approach to everything had made her one of his favorite instructors. He'd need to be sure to thank her later for pushing everything through so quickly and not just sweeping it under the rug.

Sirius nodded to her as Charles ascended to the podium for his brief statement. "My name is Charles Bingley, the barrister for the Black family and thus Lord Sirius Black." There was a small rumor of whispers when Charles casually threw out his title and he had to smother a smirk. "As a citizen of Magical Britain I am shocked and appalled that our ministry allowed an innocent man to be locked in Azkaban for over a decade without so much as a trial. My firm and Lord Black will be working closely with the ministry in the coming weeks to come to an acceptable resolution to this matter. I ask on behalf of Lord Black that his privacy be respected as he makes the transition to being a free man. Thank you." Charles turned away and sent Sirius a questioning look and he knew that if he was going to make a statement, now was the time. He subtly shook his head and Charles stepped back, allowing the Ministry press witch to thank the crowd for coming and take a couple questions. He'd decided against opening that door with the press. Charlotte had suggested that he not make a statement, saying that if he spoke to them today they may take is a standing invitation for communication, which he was keen to avoid.

Charlotte and Charles escorted him down the block back to the office like pros, somehow managing to get him back without being accosted.

They ushered him back into the room he'd been in this morning and he sat down gratefully on the sofa.

"Well, that went very well if I may say so myself." Charles said, smiling at his client. Sirius nodded, still a bit in shock that he was no officially free. "I wish I could take you to a celebratory lunch, but I'm afraid I have a prior commitment, they sprung this press conference on us at the last moment."

Sirius waved him away. "That's alright; I don't feel like dealing with the crowds much anyway."

Charles let out a short laugh and shook Sirius' hand. "I don't blame you a bit. I'll wish you a goody day then, and we'll be in touch soon." He headed for the door.

"Oh!" Sirius had a thought and Charles turned back at his exclamation, a questioning eyebrow raised. "I've just thought… could you see what happened to my cottage? I'd like to have it back…"

Charles looked thoughtful for a moment before he shook his head. "I don't recall what they did with it… auctioned it off I imagine. We'll get it back for you, not to worry. I'll let you know when I find anything out." Charles smiled once again and let himself out of the room.

Sirius turned to Charlotte who'd apparently been preparing him a plate from the food he'd ignored earlier. He accepted the plate with a smile. "I hate my mother's god awful house. Can't wait to get out of there." They talked quietly about the press conference while he ate a bit; he felt like neither was really sure what to say to the other. It had been quite a while since they'd spoken after all. When he finished he set his plate aside and stood.

"Thanks for everything today, Charlotte. I've got to meet Dumbledore… I want to talk to him about Harry." He smiled down at the petite witch who'd stood with him.

She returned his smile and to his amusement she moved in to hug him goodbye. "Will you owl me?" She asked as she stepped back out of the embrace, a tinge of pink on her cheeks. "I'd really like to keep in touch. I missed y'all so much when I went back home…" He could tell that she wanted to say more, but wasn't sure how.

"Of course I will. You and Remus are my only friends, after all." He winked at her and found he wanted to rekindle the friendship they'd had as youth, she was a sweetheart. She'd been a pretty young thing, who had grown up to a beautiful witch, too…

. . . . . . . . .

Sirius took the seat across from Dumbledore and declined the offered lemon drop. It had been a mad day and his stomach had still not settled despite the little bit Charlotte had gotten him to eat. Instead he waited for the old man to sit himself behind the desk and to open the conversation. Dumbledore had asked him to come so he would give him the floor. The two men watched each other for a moment before Dumbledore lowered his gaze.

"Sirius… I have done you an incredible wrong." The older man looked back up and Sirius saw a depth of sadness in the usually twinkling eyes that surprised him. "Regrettably, there is not a thing in the world I can do to correct it." Dumbledore watched him as if waiting for a response and Sirius felt his anger brewing; what did the man want from him? A _no hard feelings_? A _better late than never_? He tamped down the anger and bitterness as he stared at the man who could've spared him the last twelve years of anguish and waited for him to continue. "Not questioning you myself, all those years ago, will remain one of the biggest regrets in my life." The old man sighed, stood and walked over to a small sideboard. Sirius watched him pour two glasses of what looked like brandy. He returned to his seat, levitating a glass to Sirius, who accepted it and sipped it slowly. The burn of it soothed the rough edges of his emotions. Dumbledore sighed and in a rare show of distress, removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. "I know there is much I could've done in the past that I did not do, but is there anything I can do for you now?"

Again, Sirius tamped down on his anger and did his best to speak calmly. "I want to see Harry."

Dumbledore nodded as if he had expected no less and glanced at his pocket watch. "I believe we can excuse young Mr. Potter from his afternoon classes so that he can get to know his godfather." Sirius' heart clenched in his chest, unable to believe that Dumbledore would acquiesce so quickly. He'd thought for sure that Dumbledore would delay it for some reason, put him off til the weekend at minimum. "I imagine that Harry would appreciate a butterbeer… perhaps you could wait for him in the entrance hall and if he is agreeable, you could pass the afternoon away from curious students in Hogsmeade? I informed Madam Rosmerta of today's events so I've no doubt that most of the town knows by now." Sirius nodded, not trusting himself to speak; he was so anxious to speak with Harry, to see James' son. "Right then, allow me ten minutes to retrieve him from his Defense class and we shall join you there."

The walk through the castle was filled with memories, both good and heart-wrenching. Merlin he missed James. He tried to push those thoughts out of his head as he reached the front doors and waited patiently for Dumbledore to bring Harry, wanting to be in a decent state of mind for the kid. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, reminding himself that he'd been publicly cleared just a couple hours ago and there was nothing stopping him from being a part of Harry's life from here on out.

"Ah, Sirius, here we are." He turned to see Dumbledore guiding Harry down the marble stairs down to the entrance hall. He couldn't help his smile as he took in the teen's appearance; he was obviously uncomfortable, his cheeks were flushed and he was trying unsuccessfully to flatten his hair.

"Bit of a lost cause I think." Sirius remarked as they drew near and Harry looked up, confused. Sirius gestured to his unruly mop of hair. "Got your father to blame for that I'm afraid. Always looked like he just rolled out of bed." He smiled a bit at the memory and Harry's hopeful smile nearly took his breath away.

"Dumbledore said you and my dad were best mates?" Harry said a little uncertainly. Sirius told himself to be glad that Harry didn't just blindly trust everyone that he met.

"Indeed we were." _And I miss him more than I can say; you look just like him._

"He also said that you didn't betray them… all the articles in the Prophet said so too…" The boy looked between him and Dumbledore; the older man smiled gently and cleared his throat.

"Well, Harry, I'm afraid I must get back to my office. I trust you and Sirius will have a pleasant time in Hogsmeade. My office is open if either of you need anything." The old man twinkled and walked away, whistling a tune through his teeth. Sometimes Sirius didn't know if he loved or hated that man.

Harry watched Dumbledore walk away for a moment, looking slightly bemused before he turned back to Sirius. "We're going to Hogsmeade?" He asked in a surprised tone.

"If that's alright with you." He answered cautiously, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I've never been…." Harry twitched a little nervously.

The two headed out the front doors and walked down the front steps in a slightly awkward silence.

Sirius decided that as the adult he should probably do something about it. "I know this probably seems very strange, my showing up out of the blue."

"Yeah, well you've just now had your name cleared, right? Dumbledore said it was this afternoon…" Sirius gulped as Lily's eyes stared up at him out of James Potter's young face.

"Yeah, it'll be in the Prophet tomorrow, I'm sure."

"So they locked you up for all that time and you're innocent?" Harry stopped walking and looked up at him, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

He stopped and turned towards his godson, "I'm afraid so." They studied each other for a moment, Harry's face a study of righteous outrage before he looked down and scuffed the toe of his shoe against the dirt path.

"That's horrible." Harry murmured quietly and Sirius couldn't argue. They turned and headed back down the path, only to make it about twenty paces before Harry stopped suddenly. "The dementors have gone, right?" Sirius looked at him quickly, noting the panic in the boy's tone. When had he encountered a dementor? That fear only came with firsthand knowledge; he knew that well enough.

"Yes, the day they arrested Peter the ministry called them off." He couldn't resist asking, "When have you met a dementor?"

"They inspected the train on the way in." The teen answered in a low voice. "It was awful."

"Yeah, they are." He couldn't help but agree. Harry looked like he wanted to say something else, but stopped himself so Sirius made an attempt to lessen Harry's discomfort. "There's a charm though, that drives them off. It's NEWT level but if you're anything like your parents you can probably learn it early."

"Really?" Harry's expression brightened immediately and Sirius couldn't resist a bit of showing off.

He pictured that tentative smile that Harry had given him in the entrance hall and waved his wand, "_Expecto Patronum_!" He watched Harry's face light up as a silvery Padfoot leapt out of his wand and pranced around them.

"That's brilliant!" Harry laughed as the dog spun in a quick circle and chased his tail.

"It's called a Patronus. It uses the strength of your happy memories to make a shield that, if strong enough, a dementor cannot penetrate..." His explanation faltered as Harry's smile slipped a notch. What was that about? He wouldn't pry; the kid didn't know him from Adam. Yet.

They completed their walk to the Three Broomsticks in relative silence with neither quite sure of what to do in the situation. They slid into a corner booth in the back, both annoyed at the stares they received as they came in. Rosmerta shot him a wink and distracted the patrons by announcing a freshly tapped cask of mead. Sirius ordered two butterbeers and some fish and chips; Harry ordered shepherd's pie.

Harry cleared his throat. "So, I saw the photo in the Prophet… you were at their wedding?" Harry looked up hopefully at him and Sirius wondered if the boy had ever seen any of their wedding photos… perhaps nothing in the house had been salvageable?

"Yep, I was your father's best man." Harry nodded and looked uncertain of what to say. It seemed to Sirius that he wanted to hear about James, he was happy to oblige him. "He was the best mate I ever had, closer than my own brother." Harry was watching him with rapt attention. "And your mum… she was a witch like no other. Absolutely brilliant. Your dad fancied her for years before she finally gave in." Sirius chuckled at the memory and Harry grinned, apparently not knowing that about his parents.

Sirius continued, "I know this is a bit awkward… I'm a stranger to you." Harry gave a small smirk and nodded. "But I'd like to get to know you." Merlin this was a strange conversation. "If that's alright."

"Yeah! Of course!" Harry answered quickly and a knot loosened in Sirius' chest.

"So, you already know that your dad was my best mate, why don't you tell me about yours?" He sat back and sipped his butterbeer, eager to listen to stories of Harry's Hogwarts experiences.

"Well, Ron and Hermione are my best friends." The teen answered without a second thought. "They're brilliant. Hermione's top of our year." Harry said with a quiet pride.

"Nice. She's the brains of your trio, then?" Harry grinned and nodded. "How did you all meet each other?"

"I sat with Ron on the train first year. He was the one who had Scabbers…. Pettigrew." Harry let out a soft nervous laugh, giving a shrug to acknowledge the awkwardness of finding out his best friend's pet had in fact murdered his parents. Sirius shrugged back and they let the topic pass. "Anyway, Ron was my first friend." Harry finished.

"Your first magical friend you mean?" Sirius clarified.

"No… my cousin Dudley made sure I didn't have any friends." Harry attempted to mask his discomfort by poking at his food with his fork.

"You live with your mum's sister, yeah?" He asked, even though he already knew the answer from his visit to Little Whinging during the summer. Harry nodded, his mouth turned down into a frown.

"I met your Aunt Petunia once or twice before she stopped associating with your mum altogether." He watched Harry smother a grimace. "Horrid woman." He smirked at Harry's shocked laugh and the boy turned to look him in the eye. "We don't have to talk about that now." Harry nodded. "How did you two come to be friends with Hermione then?"

Now it was Harry's turn to smirk. "We saved her from a mountain troll."

"What?" Sirius nearly choked on a sip of butterbeer. "How did you come across a bloody troll?"

"Well, our Defense professor was actually possessed by Voldemort," Sirius felt a surge of pride when the kid said the name without even blinking but at the same time was horrified that old Voldy had already made another appearance in the boy's life, "and he let a troll in as a diversion because he was trying to get the Sorcerer's Stone that was hidden in the castle."

Sirius stared in shock at the boy… he was so matter of fact about what must've been a bit of an ordeal.

"Well, we remembered that Ron had been a git and made Hermione cry and she'd been in the bathroom and didn't know that the troll was loose in the castle. So we went to get her and… well it ended up that all of us and the troll were in the loo and he was trying to smash us with his club… and we knocked it out."

"When was this?" Sirius asked incredulously.

"Halloween, first year."

"You all knocked out a mountain troll your first year?" He asked, staring at him in disbelief. He felt a smile growing on his face; could this be a second generation of marauders? When Harry nodded Sirius continued, "I… just… I… I'm so proud!" Sirius said and pretended to wipe a tear away. Harry looked surprised. "You are your father's son in more than just looks Harry James." He said with a grin and ruffled his hair. Harry looked extraordinarily pleased with the comment.

Sirius stared at his godson for a moment, glad that he'd come out of that adventure without injury… but a comment about the Dursleys was nagging him. He knew he'd said they'd talk about it later, but he didn't think he could wait. Harry began speaking before Sirius could decide how to go about asking his questions.

"I never knew I was like my dad. I mean, besides looking like him. Everyone tells me that." Harry said a little sheepishly.

"Well surely you've heard stories about them…"

"Not really. I didn't even know they were magic til I was eleven and Hagrid told me. I didn't know I was magic either." The boy began tracing a scratch on the table with the tip of his index finger.

Sirius forced his hands to relax out of the fists they'd formed at Harry's statement. "Well that's certainly something we can fix. I will tell you every single thing I can remember about them. It'll take years though." His anger ebbed a bit when Harry finally looked away from the table and smiled hopefully at him. "So, do you go back to the Dursleys for holidays?" Sirius asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Harry snorted out a laugh, "Merlin, no. I don't want to even if they'd have me." He snapped his mouth shut and lowered his gaze, apparently having said more than he'd meant to. A slow anger began to burn in Sirius' chest; they didn't LET him come home for the hols?

"You don't like the Durleys then, I take it?" He tried to ask like it was no big deal.

Harry let out a dry laugh that had no business belonging to a thirteen year old boy, "Not in the slightest."

They were quiet a moment, Sirius determining how to play his cards… he didn't want to freak the poor kid out. It didn't take him long to decide to just lay them out on the table, Harry seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders. "Harry… do you know that your parents made me your godfather?"

Harry's head shot up and he stared for a moment before shaking his head slowly.

"Well… they did. I'm not sure what you're… situation is, and I understand that I'm nearly a stranger, but if you're unhappy with the Dursleys," He stumbled over his words, having no idea how to ask a teenaged boy to move in with him without sounding like a complete creep. "My home is always open to you." He finished lamely.

Harry was quiet for a split second before he burst into speech, "You mean come and live with you?"

"I understand if you'd-" Sirius began, but was cut off by Harry.

"No! I mean, yeah! I'd love to!" Harry said quickly. Sirius was caught completely off-guard by the immediate acceptance until he remembered how much a shrew Petunia was. Anyone would be better than her he'd wager.

Sirius couldn't stop from grinning across the table. "Well, how about let's plan on you spending the holidays with me and we'll go from there?" Harry nodded readily. "If you like staying with me, we can look into how to make it a permanent situation, alright?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, because your parents put in their will that I'm your godfather I have the legal right to your guardianship, not your aunt." He said slowly, wondering how the kid would take to knowing that a stranger had a fair measure of control over his life.

"You mean… I wouldn't ever have to go back?" Harry whispered, as if not daring to speak his hope too loudly.

"Not as far as I'm concerned."

Harry stared hard at him, as if trying to detect deception. "That'd be amazing." The teen finally said.

"Do they treat you that badly?" He asked quietly, knowing there had to be a reason the kid was so eager to leave the only family he remembered for a total stranger.

Harry flushed and dropped his eyes to his plate again, he nodded.

Sirius had to purposefully put a lid on his anger; this was not the time or place to lose it. "What do you usually do for Christmas then?" He really needed to change the subject before he forced Harry to explain everything. He would someday, that was certain, but not today.

Harry looked relieved at the topic shift and answered readily, "I stay here. Ron stays with me; Hermione did last year, too. Mrs. Weasley sends me a jumper." The boy smiled shyly. Sirius was glad that there seemed to be some affection between him and Molly. Apparently there was absolutely none with Petunia.

They passed the rest of the meal on safer topics; mainly Quidditch. Sirius nearly burst at the seams with pride at his godson's apparent talent and his obvious love of the game.

They left the Three Broomsticks and Sirius showed him the places he remembered from his own trips to the village. In Honeyduke's he bought the boy more sweets than was wise, enjoying Harry's obvious gratitude. They both salivated over the newest broom model in the Quidditch shop, he bought several items from Zonkos and listened, highly amused, to Harry's tales about the Weasley twins. He wouldn't mind meeting those boys… he could give them a couple tips on how to properly drive Filch mad.

As the dinner hour drew near they turned back to the castle, the awkwardness significantly less than when they'd left.

"So, where do you live?" Harry asked, biting off a chunk of a licorice wand as they ascended the path.

"Well, right now I'm staying at my parents' old home. Absolutely awful." He grimaced. "I had my own place but we're still trying to figure out what the Ministry did with it. My barrister's working on it."

"Will you have it back by Christmas?"

"No idea. I hope so." Sirius looked at Harry who was looking thoughtful. "Either way we'll spend Christmas together. Maybe we'll even go away on holiday."

"Really? I've never gone on a holiday!" Harry said excitedly and sealed the deal in Sirius' mind.

"Well then think about where you want to go and that's what we'll do." Sirius grinned as Harry looked at him in shock; he ruffled the teen's hair again laughing to himself about the state of it. He had really enjoyed his day with Harry; he was just as easy to get on with as James had been.

They paused outside the wooden front doors, Sirius was a bit sad to end the day. "So, Harry. Is… is there anything that I can do for you? Anything you need?" Were there books on how to be a godfather? He certainly had no idea how to do this.

"No- oh wait! Will you sign my permission form for Hogsmeade weekends?!" He asked excitedly.

A flare of happiness expanded in Sirius; it seemed such a small thing, signing a permission form, but it was the first thing he'd been able to do for Harry since the kid was an infant. "Of course. Run and get it and meet me in Dumbledore's office, yeah? Something I want to talk to him about anyways." They grinned at each other before Harry sprinted up the stairs and off towards the tower while he walked a bit more sedately to the headmaster.

The gargoyle granted him access and Dumbledore greeted him cheerfully when his knock was answered. "How was it, my boy?" He asked with his eyes twinkling at full force.

Sirius took a deep breath, "He's an amazing kid. I hate that I missed so much of his life."

"You can make up for it now, for certain." Dumbledore said kindly and gestured him to a chair.

"I'll do my best at any rate. Harry's gone to get his Hogsmeade form for me to sign but I wanted to talk to you about something, at least start the conversation." He began and the headmaster looked politely interested. "I want custody of Harry." He decided to just put it out there, Dumbledore would see through any posturing or whatnot.

The old man studied him quietly without answering for a moment. "It is more complicated than a normal custody situation, Sirius."

"I'm sure it is that's why I want to discuss it." Sirius responded easily, he didn't want to turn this into an argument. Despite his conflicted emotions regarding the headmaster there was no denying that Dumbledore was a good man and a great wizard.

Dumbledore sighed and looked suddenly weary. "Harry is safer with his relatives than he is anywhere, perhaps even here."

"Lily and James wanted me to bring him up. Between you and I we can put any manner of spells and wards up, he'll be just as safe." Sirius scoffed lightly, not really understanding what the old man was saying that.

"No, his aunt's house has a special protection that cannot be duplicated." Dumbledore said firmly.

Sirius thought this over for a moment, not able to think of any sort of charm that was a one off. "Explain, please." Dumbledore seemed to debate answering but after a short pause he did.

"As you know, Lily died protecting Harry. The simplest way to put it is that as long as Harry can call home a place where a blood relative of his mother lives, the protection is extended to the dwelling. Voldemort and his death eaters cannot hope to find him there until he reaches majority."

That gave Sirius pause. The old man was correct, that was powerful old magic, something that couldn't be duplicated. "But Voldemort isn't… _alive_, for lack of a better word. I assume you don't think he's gone for good though?"

"No, he is alive in some form or another, but when he does return to full life this protection will be invaluable."

"That's a whole other conversation, but until then couldn't Harry live with me? You have to know that the Dursleys don't treat him the way a family should," he entreated.

There was a quiet knock at the door and Sirius wondered just how long his godson had listened at the door before knocking. "That'll be Harry with his form."

Dumbledore waved his wand at the door and it swung open, revealing a breathless boy who appeared to have run all the way to Gryffindor tower and back.

"Got your form then?" He asked. Harry nodded and hurried in, handing him the paper as Dumbledore passed him a quill. "We were just discussing your living situation," Sirius commented as he scrawled his signature across the line, ignoring the look Dumbledore sent him.

"Oh." Harry said, looking apprehensive. The boy looked between Dumbledore and Sirius, waiting for one of them to continue.

"It seems that there are some protections on your aunt's house that we wouldn't be able to put on another place." Sirius said directly, again ignoring Dumbledore. He'd always hated when adults had excluded him from conversations that affected him directly so he felt like the kid should be included in this conversation. He was thirteen and even if he didn't get much of a say in things the kid should at least know the reasoning behind decisions made for him.

"So… I have to go back there?" The teen asked quietly, his shoulders drooping.

Dumbledore spoke up in a sympathetic tone, "I know you might not get on very well with them, Harry, but this is the safest option for you." Harry's gaze dropped to the floor as Sirius' stubbornness grew, he remembered a comment the boy had made earlier in the day.

"Harry, tell us why you don't go back for the hols, aside from the fact that you don't want to." Sirius directed, watching the headmaster for his reaction to Harry's answer.

"Erm, they tell me not to. They said they don't want me to ruin their Christmas by being in the way." Harry informed his shoes.

The headmaster didn't immediately react, but Sirius could see the sadness in his eyes. He leaned forward and caught the headmaster's eye. "How much time does he have to spend there to keep the protection active?"

Harry spoke up, apparently wanted to contribute to his case. "I spent over half of the summer before last at the Burrow! I was only at the Dursleys for a month!" Sirius smothered a grin at Harry's input; the kid was definitely going to make a smooth operator someday.

Dumbledore gave a tired laugh, "I see you two have joined forces this afternoon!" He paused in thought for a moment before continuing, "I would think… with Voldemort's current inactivity… that a minimum of three weeks there… the Dursleys will have to be spoken to… they'll have to keep Harry's room, not put him in a guest room when he stays."

"They'd just stick me back in my cupboard, that'll always be mine." Harry said quickly with a roll of his eyes. Both adults focused on him immediately.

"The cupboard?" Sirius asked.

Harry looked like he could kick himself for saying that aloud. "Erm, I lived in the cupboard under the stairs until I got my Hogwarts letter."

Sirius surged to his feet and paced away, trying his best not to lose his temper and throw a screaming shit fit in the middle of Dumbledore's office. He turned back after a moment. "The cupboard under the stairs." He said in a flat voice and Harry nodded, his eyes locked on his, pleading. "Did you know about this, Albus?" He demanded.

Dumbledore seemed to shrink in his chair and Sirius nearly lost his tenuous hold in his temper. "Minerva brought it to my attention when his letter was addressed to the cupboard." He held up a hand to stop Sirius interrupting and spoke over his protestations. "They immediately gave you a bedroom, did they not, Harry?"

"Yes sir, Dudley's second room." Harry said grudgingly.

"You mean to tell me… that your cousin had two rooms and you lived in a cupboard for ten years?!" Sirius bellowed. Harry nodded at his feet and Dumbledore closed his eyes in a grimace. "What the bloody hell, Albus! You just left him with the shrew and never looked in on him again?!"

Dumbledore gestured him back into his chair, which he blatantly ignored. Sighing, Dumbledore answered the question, "I had someone on the street looking out for him. I knew that it was not a happy situation, but I believed that the safety outweighed it."

"And now that he has somewhere else to go? Now that his _legal guardian_ is able to take him in?" Sirius asked, his voice shaking with barely controlled fury.

"I believe the situation will have to be looked at more closely. We all agree that Harry will not return over the holidays, I feel confident that we can come to an acceptable solution before next summer."

Sirius huffed out a breath and clenched his jaw, trying to keep back the violent tirade building in his chest. He nodded his acceptance. That would have to do; he didn't want to make any rash decisions… he'd learned his lesson there. Harry looked hopeful but slightly worried.

"I'm afraid I must go down to dinner," the headmaster broke the tense silence in the room. "Sirius, please come back one day next week and we'll talk further if that's alright with you."

Sirius nodded tersely still holding his tongue.

"Also, if you wouldn't mind leaving through the floo… the halls are quite full with dinner approaching and they won't hear of your pardon til the Prophet comes in the morning; it would cause a small riot if you left through the front door." Dumbledore paused and looked searchingly at Harry. "Harry… Sirius and I will work together to improve your home situation, but right now I cannot guarantee that you will avoid the Dursleys forever." His gaze zeroed in on the squirming teen over his spectacles.

Harry nodded and he and Sirius watched Dumbledore leave his office. Sirius was grateful the man had allowed them some privacy to say goodbye; it was awkward enough trying to figure out what to say without an audience. Harry looked up at him from his seat, looking as uncomfortable as if he were sitting on several tacks. He closed the distance between them and knelt in front of his godson and forgot his awkwardness.

"Harry, I will do everything I can to be sure that you don't have to go back there." He hoped the kid believed him. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but closed it without saying anything. Sirius thought he saw some tears shimmering in the teen's eyes. Not knowing what else to do he pulled the boy into a hug and held on tight, finally hugging his godson for the first time in over a decade. Harry only hesitated a moment before his arms came around Sirius' shoulders and he clung tightly, his forehead pressed to Sirius' collar bone. "I missed you, kid." Sirius said after a moment's quiet, his voice was a rough whisper because he couldn't get much air past the catch in his throat.

Harry pulled away and looked up at him. "You did?" He asked in a whisper, his eyes wide. He looked eight or ten rather than thirteen just then.

"Of course I did!" Sirius ran a hand down Harry's crazy hair; the kid looked so sad. "I know I'll never be as good as your parents, but I've loved you since they day you were born." He smiled sadly, fighting his own emotions as a look of wonder came into Harry's eyes. He didn't know what else to say, but Harry solved it by throwing himself against Sirius and wrapping his arms tightly around him again. Sirius let out a shaky sigh and returned the hug, relieved beyond words that Harry had accepted him. He smiled despite himself when he heard Harry try to sniffle quietly and he gave the boy a squeeze and rested his cheek against the messy hair. He held on until Harry pulled back, not wanting to move before the teen was ready. When he did a few minutes later Harry smiled shyly up at him and he grinned back.

"Well, you ought to get down to dinner. I'll owl you in a couple days, yeah?" He said and Harry nodded quickly. "You can send me an owl whenever you like… you know that, right?"

Harry grinned, "Cool." Sirius winked and gave him a small shove towards the door. "Bye, Sirius." Harry said, still smiling as he took the hint and headed out. Smiling to himself, Sirius threw some powder in the floo and went back to Grimmauld Place.


	7. A Lunch

A/N: Hello lovelies! For those of you who already hate Charlotte just for existing (but decided to keep reading regardless) - she makes an appearance in this chapter so… deal with it. :) For those of you who decided to withhold judgment, I hope you enjoy getting to know her a bit. This chapter kind of runs the gamut, but I couldn't find a good place to break it into two. Oh well.

I am LOVING all the feedback; keep it coming!

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_Previously on Someday Never Comes…_

_Harry grinned, "Cool." Sirius winked and gave him a small shove towards the door. "Bye, Sirius." Harry said, still smiling as he took the hint and headed out. Smiling to himself, Sirius threw some powder in the floo and went back to Grimmauld Place._

Sirius sat in the dark, nursing a glass of firewhiskey after he returned home. He dropped his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes; fighting against the ache in this throat… he wasn't even sure why he was fighting back tears. No one thing specifically, just the culmination of everything. Especially Harry… Harry who looked so much like his parents. The serious, thoughtful expression he'd worn while he'd listened to some of Sirius' stories was all Lily and the outraged expression when he'd confirmed he was wrongly imprisoned for so long was purely James. Merlin he missed James. He rubbed a hand across his chest; it was like a physical ache, the loss of Jamie was. One would think he'd have come to terms with it after so long… but he hadn't.

Today had been mind-blowing. First with the official announcement that he was innocent, then spending the afternoon with Harry and his immediate acceptance of him as his godfather. He felt his eyes fill and he swallowed down some whiskey to combat it. Had he always been such a sap? Seemed like he cried all the damn time these days. He dragged a hand down his face and thought about Harry. Petunia must've done a number on that boy for him to be so desperate to get out of her house. She and her husband would pay for their treatment of Harry. Not yet… he was still trying to avoid that whole rash decision thing, but he would not forget what they'd done. He pushed away from that thought, knowing that if he got himself riled up he'd find himself on Privet Drive in no time.

Well, it was something he and Harry could bond over at any rate- growing up in a family that didn't want you. Life would be different for both of them now, he vowed. Harry would know that he was loved and he would know that his parents had loved him more than anything, more than their own lives.

He pictured James' face in his mind's eye, so similar to Harry's. "He's a good kid, Prongs." He spoke into the dark, his voice breaking. "Fucking brilliant." He gave in to his tears then, setting his glass on the floor and dropping his face to hands, elbows on his knees. It was a few moments before the tide turned and he got himself under control again. Today had just been so overwhelming and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and stood. He picked up his glass and snagged the bottle on his way to his room. Fuck it, he'd just drink himself to sleep and deal with this tomorrow.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Sirius was awoken by the pounding of his own head. He groaned and rolled out of the rays of sun coming in through the window. Through his squinted eyes he could see the mostly empty bottle of whiskey on his nightstand. Perhaps that hadn't been his best idea. His stomach made some hideous noise and it felt like something was alive in there… He groaned again, slowly got out of bed and all but crawled to the bathroom to turn the shower on as hot as he could stand it.

After he'd wallowed in the bath for nearly three quarters of an hour and felt one level above zombie, he'd gotten dressed and wandered aimlessly through the dreary house. It took him less than ten minutes of internal debate to decide he'd rather brave the public than to stay in that godforsaken place.

That decision made, he Apparated just outside the Leaky Cauldron and after taking a bracing breath stepped through the front door. The bar wasn't very crowded but every single patron fell immediately silent, two witches even dropped their glasses.

Tom the barman didn't seem to bat an eye: "Sirius, good to see ya mate." Sirius grinned at the old man, having spent a good bit of time here before it all went to hell, he'd been a favorite of the barman's. He shook Tom's hand and greeted him cheerfully. "Fancy a pint or are ya just passin' through?" Tom asked.

"Passing through right now, thanks though." Sirius said surveying the room, which looked nearly exactly as it did the last time he'd been in. He ignored the people who had yet to return to their meals and conversations.

"Well, when ya come back it's on the house, yer money's no good here." Tom said with a sad smile and Sirius turned back in surprise. Tom answered his questioning glance, "Ain't right what they did to ya. Yer as good as they come; Merlin knows never I had no trouble when you and James Potter were here. Least I can do."

Sirius grinned at the old man and shook his hand again. "Bless you, Tom." Tom waved him away and Sirius turned to the back exit, still ignoring the stares and silence.

It was all downhill from there; the walk through the Alley seemed never ending and a hush seemed to follow him as heads turned and conversations ceased. His boots seemed loud on the cobblestones in the silence that surrounded him. He held his head high and kept a mantra of _fuck 'em_ in his thoughts as he walked.

His first stop was the bank to get some gold; the goblins treated him the same as they always had, which made a nice change from the stares and whispers that had followed him from the Leaky. He entered the Black vault with a bit of a sneer thinking he'd like to auction half of the items in there just to see if his mother would come back and haunt him for it. At the very least he'd need to get the dangerous items out of there before he passed everything on to Harry. He doubted he had to worry about leaving anything for his own kids; no one would want to reproduce with someone as infamous as he.

He filled two pouches; one for spending money and the other- significantly larger- to pay Charles for his services. After a white-knuckled, nauseous cart back from the bowels of the bank, he gratefully emerged into the lobby. He didn't quite make it to the door before he was stopped by a statuesque blond stepping into his path. His eyebrows rose when he realized her identity and he didn't really bother to mask his surprise that she even acknowledge him.

"Narcissa, you are looking lovely my dear." He greeted, in his best pureblood snobbery imitation.

"Sirius, I thought it was you I saw when I came in." She stared at him for a moment before she continued. "Is it true that you've claimed the Black Lordship?"

"It is." He answered truthfully wondering what her motivation for this discussion was… he may have been locked up for years but he knew his cousin; she wanted something.

She offered her hand and his upbringing, and tendency to charm the ladies, kicked in despite himself and he accepted it. Just as he was going to execute a mocking bow he felt a slip of parchment pressed into his palm by her slim fingers. He kept his expression carefully blank and kissed her knuckles as protocol specified. What in the world would the note say?

He straightened back up and slipped his hands into his pockets, depositing the note and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger as if contact with it would relay its message. He studied her, for once at a complete loss during a conversation with a woman. He finally settled on asking if she was well. She hesitated a moment and he saw a tension around her eyes that hadn't shown a moment earlier.

"I am well, cousin. I was wondering though, if I could bring Draco to see the Black Tapestry someday soon. I assume you are in possession of Aunt Walburga's house?"

"Yes, of course. I'm sure we could work something out for Draco to see the tapestry." He studied her, refusing to just give an actual invitation to the house. He was very suspicious of her motives… did Lucius put her up to something? She and he had gotten along as young children even though she was a couple years his senior, but as they aged and he began rebelling against their rigid pureblood upbringing, she had begun looking down her nose at him. Nothing had changed as far as he could tell.

"Well, as lovely as it's been catching up I really must be going. Your owl will find me if you want to schedule a visit." He held her eye for another moment, wishing he could see through her façade to what she really wanted… the note was burning a hole in his pocket.

He left his cousin in the lobby and trotted down the front steps, unheeding of the eyes that followed him. Despite the strangeness of Narcissa's greeting and the annoying berks that were staring at him, it felt unbelievably good to be walking the streets a free man… fresh air, sunshine… no tortured screaming. He was chuffed to bits about that last one. He set off to Charles' office, not wanting to walk around town with so much gold on him and hummed quietly to himself as he walked the two blocks. He tried not to think of Narcissa's note, knowing full well that he was still within sight of the bank and he couldn't read it until he got somewhere more private.

He entered Charles' office and was greeted politely by his secretary, Lydia, and asked to wait a moment until Charles finished up a floo call. He sat comfortably on the sofa, amused as the Lydia purposefully dropped her quill and picked it up, bending at the waist. He made sure to have his eyes averted when she straightened and looked over her shoulder. Not that he hadn't looked when she'd given him the opportunity he just didn't want her to realize he had… Merlin, she looked fresh out of Hogwarts and as much as it grated him to admit it, she was much too young for him. He watched out of the corner of his eye as her lip poked out in a pretty pout when she got no reaction out of him. He stifled a smirk at the surge of cockiness that her actions brought back out: still got it, Black. Still got it.

Just as he was wondering what the girl would do next, Charles opened his office door and waved him in. "Sirius! Out enjoying your freedom I see."

"Would be a bit more enjoyable if people would quit bloody pointing and staring. But, no one's tried to chuck me back in Azkaban so we'll call it a success." He smile wryly and dropped his money bag on the desk.

Charles made a noise of acknowledgement and carried gold to the door. "Lydia? Can you get Lord Black a receipt for this? Thank you, love." He closed the door and came back around his desk. "So, aside from the lookiloos it's been alright?"

Sirius chuckled, "Fine, thanks. Any word on my cottage?" Sirius liked Charles just fine, but was fully aware that the man charged by the hour. As evidenced by his considerably lighter pockets.

He spent another fifteen minutes in Charles' office, discussing the likelihood that he'd get his home back. It seemed that the ministry had taken possession of it and had underhandedly sold it at a shockingly low price to a ministry department head. They decided that Charles would include the immediate return of the house in their "requested compensation" for Sirius' illegal twelve year incarceration. A polite way of saying that Sirius was suing the bloody fuck out of them. Bastards.

Wrapping up with Charles he stepped into the hallway and decided to go in search of Charlotte. Maybe she could take her lunch hour and eat with him. It was really depressing to eat alone meal after meal; with her and Remus being his only friends and Moony at Hogwarts and things not fully sorted out between them… she was about his only option. Plus he was interested to get to know her again.

Before he went though, he took a moment and checked to be sure that he was by himself and pulled the bit of parchment that his cousin had slipped him from his pocket.

_I require your assistance and protection as head of my birth family. I am willing to freely exchange information for this protection for myself and my son._

As soon as he'd read it, it disintegrated through his fingers. Well. That was interesting. He'd have to put some serious thought into this. It left an uneasy feeling in his stomach… she had wasted absolutely no time in finding him. He knew Lucius was a bastard but had thought that he and Narcissa were on the same page. She must be extremely unhappy with whatever the situation was… that or she was up to no good. Would she involve her kid in some scheme?

A door opened down the hall and he straightened up and schooled his face. A clerk bustled down the hall away from him, never even noticing him standing there. He mentally shook himself and did his best to put his curiosity about Narcissa in the back of his mind. Traveling down the short hall reading names on doors as he went, he finally found Charlotte's. He peeked in the open door to see her reading something, her brow furrowed slightly in concentration. She looked up when he rapped a knuckle on the door jamb.

"Sirius, hey! Come on in, hon." He smiled at her greeting as he remembered always being amused at her sweet southern personality.

"How are you?" He asked, giving her the smile that Lydia had worked so hard for earlier.

"Just fine." She sat her papers aside and gave him her full attention. "What can I do for ya?"

"Come out to lunch with me." He said sweetly with a smile he hoped she couldn't refuse.

She looked pleasantly surprised and immediately checked her watch. "I'd love to. Give me five minutes?"

After she'd finished up they exited the office and he offered his arm when they stepped onto the sidewalk. She took it without hesitation and again he was struck with nostalgia; they had done this same thing many, many times as teenagers when they were anywhere with Lily and James, even just walking to class. He cleared his throat and looked each way up the Alley but turned to her in question. "Where to? I don't know what's good anymore."

She guided them off of the beaten path to a small bistro where they were able to get a table in the back corner… maybe someday he could sit near a window again, this back corner thing would get old quickly. He settled himself with his back to the door, deciding that that discomfort was better than people noticing him and staring.

They perused the menu quietly for a moment before Charlotte spoke up quietly, "We just got word that they scheduled Peter's trial."

He grit his teeth and flattened the paper where his fingers had clenched in anger on the menu. "When?"

"November fifth." She said in the same quiet tone. He found himself relieved that instead of pity in her eyes, he saw slow-burning anger. Peter had betrayed her best friend as well. "I reckon you'll be called to testify."

"With pleasure." He said with a grim smile.

She sat down her menu and looked at him, a slightly forced smile on her face. "Let's not ruin our lunch talking about that rat; he's ruined enough." He gave a wry chuckle and nodded in agreement. "So. How are you?" Her smile became a bit warmer and more sincere as she asked.

"I'm… alright." He paused, feeling sort of awkward… hopefully he'd get used to talking to people again soon. "I saw Harry yesterday." Her eyes widened and she reached across the table for his hand.

"You did? How… how was he? How'd it go?" She asked in a hushed voice.

"He's… he's a great kid." He smiled and willed himself not to choke up again.

"How could he not be with his parents the way they were?" She smiled softly.

"Well, it was Petunia that brought him up." He said with a growl.

"_Petunia_?!" She gasped. "But she…. She _hated_ Lily!"

"Hated her son too looks like." He said though slightly gritted teeth.

Charlotte stilled and her fingers tightened on his. "What did she do?" She asked in an icy tone.

"It'll take a bit to figure out what all she did. I didn't make him talk too much about it."

"Oh no. Bless his heart." She sat back and they were both thoughtful for a few moments as they placed their orders, both thinking about Harry. She broke the silence quietly. "Do you think it would be alright if I wrote to him? I have some baby pictures and letters that Lily sent me."

Sirius smiled, pleased at her thoughtfulness. "Yeah, that'd be brilliant. Give me a couple days to write him and let him know. He might not want to open the sentimental stuff at the breakfast table."

She giggled softly, "That's true, he is a teenaged boy after all."

After that they moved on to more cheerful topics. She already knew what he'd been up to since school, so she filled him in on her life after she'd left Hogwarts. How she'd studied wizard and muggle law at home in the states, worked with Charles on an international case and been offered a position in their firm. She'd never married- come close once but it fell through, never had children, and had always missed Lily.

The cheer dropped a bit when she confessed that by the time news of James and Lily had reached the States, where the magical community wasn't too worried about the threat in Britain, she had already missed Lily and James' funeral. Sirius supposed Remus hadn't been in any state to make sure she got word.

After that comment she sighed and pushed some food around her plate. "I've been here six months and I still haven't gone to Godric's Hollow to their… to visit them."

He felt like he'd been dunked into ice water as a wave of guilt washed over him. "To be honest, I haven't even thought about going. I suppose I should…" Yeah he'd been in hiding, but shouldn't it have occurred to him that he should visit their graves? Did he want to see Jamie's grave? Did he _need_ to in order to deal with things?

"I wonder if it would be easier if we went together?" She asked quietly, studying him.

He pondered for a moment, meeting her gaze. Did he want a witness to the inevitable breakdown he'd have at James' graveside? Not so much… but she'd probably be pretty weepy herself. Would the breakdown be easier with some support there? Perhaps. Did he want to do it privately? Possibly.

"Maybe." He finally conceded, unsure if he wanted her company when he went.

"Well, I've been thinking that I'll go soon. With all of it being brought back up and seeing you again… I've been missing her a lot lately."

He nodded, not really knowing what to say to her. They were gone: it sucked sideways. He didn't have to tell her that.

"Has Harry been?" She asked so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

"Oh, Merlin." He'd have to take the kid to see his parents' graves. "I doubt it. You know Petunia wouldn't have taken him." He'd have to go at least once before he took Harry so that he could actually comfort him and not be an absolute mess.

"He should go. When he's ready." He nodded in agreement. She cleared her throat, "Well, I certainly know how to bring the mood down." She gave a sad little laugh.

"Nah. I'm sure it's not the last time we'll talk about them." She checked her watch and he knew that her lunch hour was nearly over. "Shall I walk you back?"

"Yes, please." He tossed some galleons on the table, waving her off when she tried to pay for her own. They resumed their arm-in-arm posture when they hit the sidewalk. "So, have you done anything for fun yet?" She asked, looking up at him as they walked slowly down the sidewalk. He was in no rush to be on his own again.

"Other than lunch today and spending yesterday afternoon with Harry… not really, no." He answered; glaring at a woman he'd just noticed gawping unattractively at him from the curb. Merlin, he was only three bloody feet away. "I _can_ see you, you know." He snapped when his glare made no impact. The woman flushed, snapped her mouth closed and hurried off. "Bloody idiot."

"Yeah she is." Charlotte contributed with her own glare following the witch's retreating figure.

He chuckled in appreciation and wondered if enough time would ever pass for people to stop staring at him. It was a shame that the wizarding community was so small. Everybody knew _everybody_. Maybe he'd move to the continent someday… eh, probably not.

They arrived back at the office with promises of not letting another twelve years go by before they visited again. After exchanging floo addresses she went back in to work and he continued his day in the Alley.

He was debating where he wanted to go when he spied the pet store and Harry's friend Ron popped into his head. He wondered how the poor kid was coping with the fact that his pet turned out to be a murderous wizard in disguise. Maybe he should buy the kid a replacement? Yeah, that would be nice. He walked through the doors and was assaulted with the fairly unpleasant odor of pet food and stale urine. Couldn't they just _Evcanesco_ the mess? He ambled past the cats/kneazles without any of them catching his interest, ignored a barking krup- the kid wouldn't be allowed to take it to school -and passed the rats- no way in hell. He quickly realized he was fast running out of pets… perhaps he should go look at the kneazels? Turning around, he quickly flinched and ducked his head when he caught a glimpse of something moving rapidly towards his head. He straightened after an audible thud sounded on the shelf behind him. Glancing around he saw that no other patrons seemed alarmed and nothing else was being flung in his direction so he curiously turned and saw that the projectile was actually a miniscule fluff ball of an owl. He picked it up from the shelf it had crash-landed on and studied it a moment. The bird comically studied him for a second as well before it burst into an enthusiastic twittering birdsong. He raised an eyebrow in amusement at the tiny thing.

"Well, you're chipper, aren't you?" He asked, smiling at the little creature. In general owls were very stoic and proud birds but this one… he was not. He just looked damned happy that someone was paying attention to him. He cocked his head as he pondered… everyone could use an owl and since he hadn't spoken to Molly about giving Ron another pet, a useful one might be for the best. Plus, a boy who'd just lost his pet in a disturbing way might enjoy having such a happy pet to replace the previous one. Plus he just liked this bird. He deposited the bird on his shoulder, where it continued to make all sorts of noise as though he was telling Sirius his life story, while he stood in the queue to purchase the tiny thing.

A few minutes later he was back on the street, very satisfied with his purchase- which was already sent off to Hogwarts with a quick note. Hopefully he'd get a letter in a couple days with news that Ron liked his owl. He looked up and down the Alley, deciding where to go next. Maybe ice cream at Fortescue's? It was amazing to have the freedom of choice again.

. . . . . . . . .

After he returned home that afternoon he wrote a note to Harry explaining that he'd reconnected with his mum's best friend from school and to be expecting some post from her soon- and beware that may contain photos and sappy girl stuff. He also wrote to Moony, asking after his classes and calling him Professor multiple times. He also suggested they meet at the Three Broomsticks and have a pint or two soon. Sirius was ready to patch up that relationship; despite their issues he missed Remus. A lot.

That night, with nothing much else to do, he sulked around the house and drank until he fell asleep. Perhaps it was becoming a habit… he wasn't too fussed to be honest.


	8. A Visit

A/N: This is a very short one… sorry about that but it just worked better this way. The next chapter should be up quickly. :)

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Sirius awoke the next morning and after a shower and small breakfast his habitual hangover subsided enough that he began thinking about what he wanted to do that day. Anything to get out of this sodding house. Charlotte's mention of the cemetery occurred to him almost immediately and would not leave his mind. He sulked around the house for a bit, berating himself for his hesitation while he worked up the courage to go. Part of him had absolutely no desire to visit his best friend's grave. None, nada, zip, zero, zilch. But the rest of him knew it had to be done. He had to go see Jamie. And Lily. It wasn't like he didn't miss Lily too, but the loss of her wasn't the same… He kept wanting to floo James to see if he wanted to hang out; he was the first one he wanted to tell when he was finally freed. It was an instant thing: the person he wanted to share news with was James. How long would it take before it stopped being a knee-jerk response to contact James? Would it ever happen?

He spent the remainder of the morning psyching himself up to go and trying to convince himself that he'd feel better after, less guilty, that there would be some sort of closure in seeing the grave. That he could apologize for his horrible idea to make Peter the secret keeper. He was pretty sure he was taking the piss though and he would not feel better at all.

He robotically ate his lunch without tasting it, his stomach filling more rapidly with dread than food, before he finally tossed the remains of his sandwich down. He trudged upstairs and got unenthusiastically dressed in jeans and a hooded jumper. It was a bit worse for wear and quite tight across the shoulders, but it was as good as he could expect from being left over from his teen years. He'd only bought a couple of clothing items during his day in the Alley. That was stupid.

After berating himself for dreading it so much he Apparated to Godric's Hollow and walked slowly through the village. It looked like it always had… quaint, picturesque. He'd pulled his hair back and put on a Manchester United cap that he wore low, shading his face in the hopes that he'd go unnoticed by both the muggles and wizards in the village. It annoyed him that he felt he had to conceal his identity just to go to a graveyard… but he would definitely attract attention in this village if people recognized him near the house where it all happened. He knew he could change his face with a spell or two… only looking like someone other than himself when he went to James' grave felt plain wrong. He took a detour on his way to the churchyard… deciding to make his misery complete and visit the Potter cottage. Why he thought it would be a good idea to go back to the place where he'd climbed over their bodies to pull their bloodied son out of the wreckage of their home was a good idea he didn't know. Regardless, he stood there now at the gate. He stared at the neglected house with his stomach churning and immediately regretted coming. The solemn wreckage of what had been a charming cottage stood in sharp contrast to the beauty of the fall day. He stared at the upper floor where the roof and outside wall were blown away… the roof caving in on that side from no longer having the supporting wall. Ivy trailed carelessly across the stones all the way up to the soffit and somehow made the once happy home look forlorn and creepy. Honestly… it almost made it easier. This didn't look like James and Lily's place anymore. He could almost convince himself that this was some other abandoned home, where strangers had lived and left. It was hard to imagine that this tumbledown dwelling held any happy memories… only death and destruction. Only nightmares.

He pressed a shaking hand to his stomach that was suddenly roiling. He started to push open the gate but stopped himself realizing that he'd never make it to the cemetery if he went in there. He could only to one at the time. He'd rather see their headstone than the places where they died. He'd seen that in his dreams nearly every night since then…. Relived it in his waking mind when the dementors lingered outside his cell… he didn't need to see the house again. Not today, not any time soon. He stood and stared for several minutes, try as he might he was unable to turn off the film playing in his head that showed him a replay of that Halloween night. Perhaps someday that film would be replaced by the happy memories he'd been a part of in that house. Not today anyway.

After promising himself that he would come back someday, it was probably worse in his dreams than in reality, he pushed away from the gate and made his way towards the village center guided by the church steeple rising above the other buildings. The churchyard was empty, it being the middle of a weekday afternoon, and he passed unnoticed. He attempted to keep his mind blank as he pushed open the kissing gate and stepped into the graveyard. He steeled himself as best he could and began his search through the stones… silently looking for the one that would feel like a punch in the chest. At each stone he came to he both hoped and dreaded to see the name Potter on the inscription. He wanted to find them and yet wished he could walk through all the acreage and never see them. He broke out in a light sweat despite the cool day. Even though he felt guilty for the feeling he could not deny that at that moment he wanted to be anywhere but that graveyard.

He walked cautiously down the rows and wondered what proper graveyard etiquette was. Was it rude or bad luck or something to step on a grave? It felt rude… there were _people_ down there. He kept close to the backs of the headstones of the previous row just to be safe. If he'd been in a better mood he might've chuckled at himself for this slightly ridiculous notion, these people wouldn't know if he walked on their grave… it wasn't like they would reach up and grab his ankle if he got too close.

Two more rows… still no James. The knot in his stomach was still as tight as ever… the silence was nearly complete aside from the leaves quietly crunching under his feet and some sort of bird singing a sweet melody not too far away. He concentrated on that instead of his discomfort; it helped a bit. Finally, after nearly fifteen minutes he came to the white headstone that bore his best friend's name. His muscles locked and he froze, not even breathing as his eyes raced over the words carved into the cold stone. James. Lily. After a moment he snapped out of the daze and walked the final steps until he stood shakily right in front of the headstone. He blinked, realizing that he'd walked right up to it… he was standing right on top of them. He shook his head knowing that James would be laughing at his worry about such a trivial thing. He read the dates carved in the white marble… twenty one years old. Merlin that was such a short time. James.

He gracelessly folded his legs beneath him and plopped cross-legged onto the leaf-strewn grass. It was eerie to think that James and Lily's bodies were lying beneath him. Were they bones now? It was a disturbingly gruesome thought, wondering about the state of their remains. It turned his stomach even more.

He sat in silence… it was almost impossible to wrap his head around everything… James, so full of life was now lying in a casket six feet underground. Lily, one of the best people that he'd ever known was there next to James. Sirius blew out a slow breath as he felt the ache in his throat reach epic proportions and his vision blurred with tears. He tossed his sunglasses on the ground and shielded his eyes with a hand pressed to his brow. James and Lily… just… _gone_. He reached forward and threaded his fingers into the grass as if getting that bit closer would make him feel better. It didn't. The tears spilled over as he sat in the soft fall sunlight and stared at the white headstone that so coldly proclaimed that his best friend was indeed beyond his reach. Gone. Dead.

"Fuck this, Jamie." He whispered as he pulled his shirt collar up over his face and tried to dry his eyes. Bloody hell this hurt. This hurt like nothing ever had. The night he'd found their bodies he'd been so filled with adrenaline that the grief hadn't been able to fully take hold. The years in Azkaban had been terrible, especially with the dementor-induced misery, but his innocence had been like a beacon and his mind had concentrated on the outrage he felt as his imprisonment and his fury at Peter's betrayal. Anger was so much easier; and it was an emotion that the dementors couldn't take away. But now… now James' death was staring him unmercifully in the face. There was no filter, no distraction. No denial.

James and Lily Potter were dead. And he, Sirius Black, was left here without them.

He only managed to stay at the graveside for about five minutes before the sticky feeling of panic began creeping up his spine. He had to get out of there. He couldn't sit there one more bleeding minute. He was done. It felt like if he even glanced one more time at the stone he would absolutely come apart at the seams. Feeling a little bit of shame under his panic he stood and glance around, making sure no one could see him and Apparated away from his best friend.

Arriving back at Grimmauld Place he slammed into the house, threw a Silencing Charm at his mother's portrait in reflex, and fled up the stairs to the library. Merlin he was scum of the earth. Couldn't even stay five sodding minutes at their graves. He reached for the firewhiskey- again- and poured three fingers into a tumbler with a shaking hand. He drank half of it down in one, relishing in the burn that replaced the cold that had settled in his chest. He couldn't think about it anymore.

His grief crossed the oh so fine line into anger and then morphed into absolute fury. He grabbed the first thing his could reach, a hideous vase, and threw it with all his might and a shouted expletive across the room where it shattered spectacularly against the fireplace. That didn't help much so he ripped of his cap and threw it. That didn't even make a noise so he proceeded to launch everything within his grasp at the far wall- books, picture frames, several priceless heirlooms- until his throat was raw from his yells and the shelf behind him was empty. With his energy finally drained and his rage collapsing brutally back to grief he staggered to the sofa and picked up his glass again.

Not giving a single damn in hell that it was still early afternoon, he sat back and prepared to drink his feelings away, to drown them in the alcohol until he couldn't recognize them anymore. Until they didn't feel like raw, angry wounds.

His endeavor was successful and by dinner time he was sprawled in the floor, everything forgotten.

* * *

AN: Well, that was depressing. But he needed to do it. Our boy's going to have to learn some better coping mechanisms than all this drinking... it's a bit not good.


	9. A Letter

A/N: I thought we might need a break from Sirius' troubles so here's a day with Harry. :)

* * *

Harry Potter and his two best friends made their lazy way down to breakfast on the following Saturday morning. They talked casually about whatever caught their fancy as they ate, Ron with his mouth full and Hermione griping and glaring at him as a result. Harry wasn't interested in being snapped at by either and so chose to quietly eat his own breakfast.

His attention was caught by the arrival of the post owls and his heart leapt at the thought that he might get a letter from Sirius. He'd spent his first two years at Hogwarts without receiving a single letter. Now Sirius had promised to write to him a couple of times a week and it felt amazing to have someone that wanted to hear from him. Merlin knew if he wrote to the Durlseys they'd just lock him in his room for it when he came back from the summer. As of right now, he was forbidding himself to hope that he might be able to avoid them and stay with Sirius… it wouldn't do to get his hopes up.

He eagerly searched the multitude of birds, but didn't see Maat. He felt a bit disappointed but reminded himself that he had just heard from him yesterday and Sirius was a busy man. Harry didn't actually expect to get post two days a week but even if Sirius sent him something once a month he'd be ecstatic, he understood that his godfather (_godfather!) _ had better things to do than write to a thirteen year old kid. Maybe Sirius was the type of adult who kept his word, he seemed like he would… he'd just have to wait and see.

He went back to his breakfast, conceding defeat that Sirius hadn't sent anything today w a small brown owl landed next to his pumpkin juice and held her leg out to him.

"For me?" He asked the bird in surprise. Maybe this was the letter from the woman Sirius had mentioned… The owl shuffled closer and eyed him as if to say '_obviously'_.

He untied the envelope surprised that it felt much heavier than usual post. He opened the envelope and read the neat feminine handwriting.

_Harry,_

_Sirius should've written and let you know who I was and that I'd be writing you soon. If he didn't I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty. I'm writing because your mother was my best friend while we were at Hogwarts and I wanted to share some things with you. I was an exchange student from America and met your mom on the train first year and we became friends very quickly. She and I stayed in touch when I went back home and we wrote each other religiously up until we lost her. I've included some of the letters and pictures that she sent me of their wedding and of you when you were a baby. I made copies for myself and sent you the originals; please feel free to keep them and do with them as you like._

_Your mother was the best friend that I ever had; she was an amazing person and I miss her every day. Your dad was fantastic and I miss him, too, even though he and I weren't as close as I was with your mom. I will be more than happy to answer any questions you have about her- Sirius can probably answer about your dad better than I could._

_I hope this letter finds you well and feel free to write with any questions._

_Yours,_

_Charlotte Butler_

Harry stared at it, his breakfast completely forgotten. He tested the thickness of bundle of parchment behind Charlotte's letter. These were letters written by his mum? He froze in a moment of indecision: part of him wanted to flee the Great Hall and find a quiet corner and immediately rip into them. On the other hand… he was almost afraid of what'd he find there.

Hermione's hand on his arm startled him out of his reverie. "Harry? Was that from Sirius?"

He looked up from the letter. "No, it's from a woman who was my mum's best friend. Sirius told me she'd be writing."

"Oh!" Hermione's hand squeezed his arm and smiled, her eyes lit up. Ron's fork paused on the way to his mouth as his eyes swiveled to the envelope. "What did she say?"

"She erm, she sent me some letters and photographs that my mum sent her when I was little." He said, not really knowing how to feel about it. He was feeling a little sweaty if he was being honest.

"Oh." Her eyes flicked from his face to the bundle in his hand. "Why don't we all go down to the lake? It's quite lovely outside." She asked, tidying up her plate and he knew she was giving him the opportunity to read them away from the Great Hall and he immediately snapped up the lifeline.

Ron grumbled a bit, but grabbed a muffin and a piece of bacon and left the great hall with them. They made their way down the lawns with Harry's distracted thoughts on the contents of the envelope in his hands, completely oblivious to what the other two might be talking about. Hermione steered him towards their favorite tree and deposited him underneath it. He barely heard her lame excuse about needing Ron's help looking for a plant for Herbology but was grateful when they left him alone in the shade of the tree.

With trembling fingers he pulled out the yellowed parchment and unfolded it. He read it quickly, slightly overwhelmed with the knowledge that his mother had written the words.

_Dear Charlotte,_

_Hello dearest! I got the book you sent, thank you! I will start reading it this afternoon. _

_There's really nothing interesting going on at the moment. I'm getting steadily larger; James reckons I'll have my own gravitational field soon and he may be right. I am absolutely huge and I still have four or five weeks before Harry arrives! Seriously Charlie, you wouldn't believe how big I am: I went out with mismatched shoes on today. I was mortified but how's a girl supposed to get shoes on when she can't see- or reach- her feet! Humiliating. I am so excited about the baby though. We've painted the nursery; I'll send a photo when we get all the furnishings in._

_How are things with Cole? And law school? Write me a long letter and tell me everything. Miss you!_

_Love,  
Lily _

_PS: The boys all say hello!_

_PPS: Sirius insisted that I add that he's sure that Cole isn't good enough for you and that you should ditch him immediately. Personally, I think if he (he as in Sirius) wants you for himself he should get his bum to America and get you. Now he's ranting at me that I'm making things up and I should erase this; I'm not going to because I'm fairly certain that I'm right._

Harry stared at the words with the reality that his mother had written them slowly sinking in. He laughed softly at the idea of Sirius bickering with his mum for teasing him about Charlotte and wondered if anything had happened between them. His eyes traveled back to the top of the letter: _I'm so excited about the baby…_ that was him! She had been excited for him to arrive. He felt wetness on his face and hurried to wipe the tears away, looking anxiously to see if anyone was paying attention to him. The only people around were Ron and Hermione; she was watching him surreptitiously while trying to keep Ron occupied. He'd have to thank her later; this was something he wanted to do by himself. Feeling confident that Hermione would keep people away from him he greedily read through the stack of letters; emotions that he was unfamiliar with coursed through his chest. His mum had loved him. From the comments she made about his dad, he had loved him as well. His parents had loved him. He had physical proof right in his hands. He'd never hug them… never hear them say I love you, but he could see it here on these pages. He traced the words, still feeling strangely awed that his mum had put them there with her own hand. He sniffled again when he noted that she made her G's the same way he did. That was an odd feeling as well, it seemed silly to be emotional about the letter G, but it was a similarity to her that he could actually see… not just someone telling him he had her eyes. Did this mean that he had her hands as well? He studied them a moment… they didn't look particularly feminine.

He shrugged and eagerly picked up the photos. The first was one of his mum with her belly unbelievably large and her hands caressing it gently. Merlin, he was in there! How strange.

In the next photo his mum was looking exhausted with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and her eyes tired. She was lying in a hospital bed and his dad hovered near her shoulder looking down at the small bundle that she held- clearly himself as a baby. His dad looked as though he was about to explode with some sort of emotion… Harry wasn't sure which. His mum smiled down fondly at him. He spent another ten minutes staring at the five photos that Charlotte had sent before Hermione and Ron settled in on either side of them. He wordlessly passed the photos to Ron and the letters to Hermione, eager to share his parents with his best friends.

"Blimey, do all women's get bellies that big?" Ron asked with no tact. Hermione tsked but didn't answer. Harry shrugged; he'd never been around a pregnant woman before so how was he supposed to know?

He and Ron talked quietly about the photos, while Hermione silently read the letters. When she was done she flung herself against him and his arms came around her in reflex as much as anything else. She hugged him tightly, sniffled, and whispered in his ear, "They loved you so much."

He nodded but didn't trust himself to speak past the catch in his throat. She pulled back, smiling sadly at him then imperiously held her hand out for the photos, which Ron handed over without hesitation.

She sniffled again as she looked through them. "She's so pretty." She said so quietly Harry almost didn't hear her. Then she grinned and looked up at him. "Aw, you do look like your dad… everyone's always said, only now I really see it in this one; you two have the same smile."

Harry's heart swelled a bit more, even though it felt full to bursting, and he grinned back at her.

"You need to make sure that you write her and thank her for sending these. They obviously meant something to her since she kept them all these years." Hermione said, sifting through the letters one more time.

Not much later the three teens headed back into the castle, a bit chilled from a wind that had come up, and Harry went straight upstairs and pulled his photo album out of his trunk. He added the new photos almost reverently, staring at each one again. His parents looked so young, so happy. It was hard to imagine looking at them that they'd be dead within a year. Some of them were within a couple of months of that Halloween. He jolted when the door opened and Ron poked his head in.

"Alright, mate?" He asked, coming in and closing the door behind him.

Harry cleared his throat, which had started to ache again, "Yeah… just got distracted I guess."

"Don't blame ya." Ron said, walking over to peer at the album over Harry's shoulder. Ron shifted a bit uncomfortably before sitting down next to Harry on the bed. "Is it weird? Reading the letters?" Ron gestured with his chin to the stack.

"A bit." Harry began uncertainly… how could he explain it to someone who had both his parents? "Seems mad, but it's weird to think that she held that paper… and that she wrote the words." He shook his head, frustrated that he couldn't get out what he wanted to say. "It's like… I've only sort of known her in the abstract, ya know?" He glanced to his left to see Ron staring into space with his brow furrowed, obviously thinking. "It's like… yeah I knew I had a mum and that her name was Lily Potter… but I've never had anything of hers and I didn't really know anything about her. It was almost as if she only existed in my head or something." Ron still looked uncertain so he gave up with a frustrated sign. "I don't know how to explain it, but yeah, it's a bit weird." Harry got up and set the album on his bedside table, the letters tucked safely inside.

"I dunno, mate." Ron stood and shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "If you want to stay up here I'll tell Hermione to leave you alone…" Harry shot an appreciative at his best mate- neither of them knew how to do emotional situations but he was glad he was being supportive.

"Nah, I'm alright."

"Well… Hermione told me to tell you to bring a quill and parchment down with you so you could write Charlotte a thank you letter." Ron rolled his eyes and Harry sighed.

"I might as well… if I put it off she won't help me figure out what to write." Harry was keen to get Hermione's help as he'd never written to a stranger before… much less a stranger that had sent him something so meaningful.

It took long enough that Ron had abandoned them to play chess with Dean and Hermione had finished a Potions essay before Harry had completed a letter that he wouldn't be embarrassed to send.

_Dear Ms. Butler,_

_Thank you very much for sending me the letters and photographs. I've put the photos in the album that I have- you've doubled the number of photographs in it, thanks very much! I never knew any of my parents' friends so I'm really glad you wrote to me- Sirius did tell me to expect your letter so don't worry about that. _

_The letters are fantastic; I never really knew anything about my parents until I spent the day with Sirius last week. Everyone just told me I looked like my dad and had my mum's eyes so it was amazing to read the letters she wrote you- thank you for sharing such a personal thing with me. It was obvious that she cared about you a lot._

_I do want to know more about both my parents but I don't even know what questions to ask. If you ever find a spare moment and it isn't too much trouble I would love to find out more about my mum._

_Thanks again,  
Harry Potter_

It seemed dismally short for the amount of time he'd spent on it and some of Hermione's lines were painfully obvious but he supposed it was as good as it was going to get. He pulled out a second parchment to write a letter that was significantly easier. Granted he'd only really known Sirius for a week or so and had only exchanged two letters… but it was easy to write him. Sirius was very easy to talk to and was one of the few adults who took the time to actually listen to him. And Sirius was the only adult who'd every explained any reasons as to why decisions were made for him. Harry was fully aware that he was only thirteen and so he couldn't make many decisions- like who to live with- by himself, but it made him feel really good that Sirius talked with him about why instead of just telling him how it was. He was very hopeful that that would continue and Sirius wouldn't treat him too much like a child.

Harry would never forget sitting in Dumbledore's office with Sirius when he found out about his cupboard. He'd never had an adult get angry on his behalf before. They were always angry _at_ him. It still made him sit up a little straighter when he thought about it. Sirius really did care what happened to him. He thought he could even stomach going back to the Dursley's now that he knew his godfather would be waiting to get him out of there. Not that he wanted to go back, Merlin no. He really wanted to live with Sirius; hopefully he'd get his house back soon. Would he have his own room there? Maybe Sirius buy him some posters! He'd never been allowed to decorate his room before… that would be brilliant! He'd have a Cannon's poster… oh and that poster of different broom models he saw in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Maybe a team poster of the players from the Harpies… they were quite pretty. And the poster of the different dragon species! It would be so awesome to have his own room and have it full of blatantly magical things! He shook his head; he was getting ahead of himself. He'd just ask for one poster at first… he didn't want to push his luck.

He settled in to write his letter.

_Sirius,_

_I got the letter from Charlotte you said she'd send. It was brilliant, she sent me letters that mum had written her and some photos of mum pregnant and then when I was little. I've only got a couple pictures of them but I think they were before they got married. It's cool that I've got more now! You know in one of her letters mum reckoned you wanted to go to America and bring Charlotte home to be your girlfriend. Is that true?_

_So what are you doing this weekend? Have you heard about your house? When are you meeting with Dumbledore?_

_It's Hogsmeade next weekend, if you don't have anything planned maybe you could meet me for lunch? You could meet Ron and Hermione! They're both jealous that I got to visit the village before them, ha!_

_I think Ron and I are going to play Quidditch this afternoon- even though Hermione wants us to work on an essay for Potions. _

_Write back soon,  
Harry_

Harry smiled to himself while he sealed the letter and scrawled Sirius' name across the front. He'd just written two letters… he now had, not one, but two people who wanted to hear from him. Well, Charlotte sort of counted. She might not reply but she had at least written to him so he was counting it. He almost wanted to write to Uncle Vernon just to tell him that he was wrong. Harry did have people who cared about him.

"Oi! Aren't you done yet?" Ron hollered across the room and Harry turned to look at his best friend. "If we're going out to the pitch we'd better go, it'll be dark soon." Harry agreed and immediately stood, smiling winningly at Hermione who was attempting to chastise him for not doing his potions essay, and rushed upstairs with the rest of the boys for their coats and gloves.


End file.
